#and i spent most of therapy yesterday talking about how and why my family sucks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweetandsavageautistic · 3 years ago

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(CW: Autism Martyr Parent, hell mention, self-harm mention)

So I was searching for if people’d go to hell for being autistic because I was going to a church fall festival (I asked the pastor if I’d go to hell for being autistic and he said no, so there’s that) and I came across this:

https://faithmummy.wordpress.com/2017/10/15/i-dont-want-to-be-an-autism-parent-anymore/

*big-ass inhale of frustration.*

Okay.....let’s take this in bits.

“*Preface: have you ever felt overwhelmed with life? I have. Of course I love my son with all my heart, I should never need to even justify that, but living with a child with severe autism is hard. I do not need threats made to my life or my child’s because I find some days hard. Comments like that will not be approved.

And for the record I don’t always feel like this but I am human and some days this is exactly how it is. *”

Okay, that’s understandable. You’re allowed to voice that it’s difficult. You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed. That’s valid. If the post continued like this, I’d be fine with it, but she calls herself an Autism Parent, so.....brace yourselves.

“The day started far too early. There was no sweet cuddles in bed or a little voice asking for a drink; no I was woken as usual by screaming. I have had day after day, month after month, year after year of being woken by screaming and I don’t want that anymore.“

That’s also valid, but at the same time, he’s trying to communicate with you. He’s trying to communicate his needs. He might not have any other method of communication, whether it’s the only way he knows how to communicate or that he lacks the proper tools to communicate.

“I don’t want to wake up to a smell that would make you want to vomit and bedding that is fit for the bin more than the washing machine, because yet again it is covered in something that ought not to be seen by anyone else. I am so tired of that now.“

That just is how it is sometimes. You gotta deal with that.

“I don’t want to sit on my couch in the middle of the night looking at my child and wondering what I did to have a child who sees no point in sleeping, who at 8 still can’t say ‘mama’ and who still thinks the world revolves around his needs only.”

This is where I get pissed. You’re basically saying that your son is a punishment for you. You’re calling him a burden. But it’s the last bit that boils my blood.

“who still thinks the world revolves around his needs only.”

This is where I say “Fuck. You.” You’re making him sound selfish. Us autistic people generally have trouble communicating our needs because neurotypicals don’t seem to fucking listen. You’re making it sound like he’s arrogant and a narcissist. If you’re looking for that, look in a fucking mirror.

“I love him more than words could ever convey but I don’t want to be an autism mum anymore.”

You love him and yet you just said you wonder what you did to have a child like him? That shit doesn’t add up.

“I want to be a mum who has fun with her child rather than doing therapy with them.

“I want to walk my son to school and talk to his friends instead of sending him in a taxi to a place where I am a stranger to them.

“I want to be able to talk to my child about the fact it is his birthday soon and discuss what he would like to do to mark that day.

“I want to be someone who takes my child to bowling, teaches them to ride a bike or even goes to the movies with them. Instead the only place I ever take him to is hospitals or respite.”

This one’s a double-edged sword. On one hand, yeah, your child having to miss out on those things sucks. On the other hand, the subtext is indicating that this is about YOU, not your child.

“I am tired of missing out on everything. I am tired of never having party invites, knowing nothing about his day at school, having to still dress him, having to take adult nappies and wipes with me wherever I go.“

No, you’re tired of not being able to live vicariously through him, as shown by you saying YOU are tired of missing out on everything.

“I don’t want to be an autism parent anymore.

“I am tired of holding my child as he screams in public again.

“I am tired of the never ending judgement, the stares and the horrid comments.

“I am am tired of carrying around my broken heart as a result of the interventions and therapies having achieved nothing.

“I simply can not bear the thought of my child as an adult knowing what society is like.

“I am tired of meetings.

“I am tired of phone calls from his school.

“I am tired of fighting for everything but then being accused as having an attitude or people thinking I act like I am entitled.”

Have you ever considered WHY he’s screaming in public? Have you ever considered that he’s trying to communicate or that he’s overwhelmed?

“I don’t want my child to have autism anymore. This is not a ‘different way of seeing the world’ that he has, or ‘a wonderful gift’. This is a child about to be 9 years old who can not say ‘mum’ or use a bathroom himself. This is a child almost my height who still can’t put his own clothes on, brush his own teeth or dry himself after a bath. This is a child who can never ever be left alone, who has to have everything the same all the time, who self harms and wanders. This is a child still with the mind of a toddler who will require others to look after him his entire life.“

EXCUSE ME? THE MIND OF A TODDLER? I don’t think he does. You said he needs to have everything the same all the time. He doesn’t have control over most of his life, so having that sense of stability and routine is likely comforting to him. I feel like in the back of his mind, he knows that. Also you can’t wish away his autism.

“Who would want that for their child?

“Who would want that as a parent?

“Today I don’t want to be an autism parent any more.

“The problem is I have no choice.”

MARTYR COMPLEX ALERT! MARTYR COMPLEX ALERT!

“So I strip that bed, bath that child, cook him that breakfast as I always do and let him sit on my knee while he rewinds the same ten seconds of video on you tube he did yesterday and the day before that and the day before that.“

Bath THAT child. “That child” has the same energy as “That thing.”

“Nothing changes much in my house, except my feelings.

“Today I am tired. I don’t want to be an autism parent today the same way any other parent may feel about not wanting to be the mum of a toddler who tantrums daily or a baby who has reflux or the partner to someone with Alzheimer’s. We all have days when we are just down about the life we have.”

Um, no. You don’t want to be an autism parent because it’s hard on you. You’re not thinking about your son. If you don’t want to be around someone because you only focus on how their disability makes things difficult for you and not taking their struggles into consideration, they deserve better.

“Yet we carry on. We dust ourselves down, search for some positives or listen to some music.

“Tomorrow is a new day. It will probably start off with screaming again too., but maybe tomorrow I will be stronger, more hopeful, more upbeat.

“Maybe tomorrow I will want to be the autism parent I need to be.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

So you just spent 90% of the blog post crying about how hard your life is because you see your child as a burden, and then you say “we carry on”? Are you for real?

This blog post is disgusting. It has one and a half valid points: the preface and that double-edged sword I mention. But that only makes up like 10% of the whole post. The other 90% is them creating a sob story to get pity and sympathy. They’re making themself out to be a victim.

Here’s a hot take: if you’re not willing to love your child because of something out of their control, like a disability or their sexual orientation or their gender identity, you shouldn’t become a parent. You can’t go into parenthood expecting the ideal family life. You can feel frustrated about the obstacles you face. That’s valid. But DO NOT demonize your child and/or make them out to be a burden.

#autism parent #autism martyr parent alert #autism #autistic #actually autistic #actuallyautistic #sweet and savage autistic

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anotheronechicagobog · 5 years ago

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Enemies to Lovers Noah Sexton x dawson!reader

requested by: @bitweird1

written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: swearing, mature themes, child neglect, slightly Dawson bashing but they really just didn’t know, canon compliant threats

You had spent your entire life struggling and working your ass off. No social life, extracurriculars for the sole purpose of applying to universities, and spending the majority of your life studying because according to your dad at least one Dawson had to become a doctor and your older siblings had decided that it wouldn’t be them, leaving you to do nothing but prepare for the future that had been hand-picked by the man you felt abandoned you. And then Noah fucking Sexton just waltzes in having put in half the effort and riding the coattails of his much more intelligent sister who gave up a career as a doctor because of sexism. He spent far too much of his time flirting with everything that had boobs and a pulse. You didn’t like him because he took nothing seriously and didn’t have a responsible bone in his body, and he hated you because you were incredibly uptight and didn’t have a sense of humour.

“Maybe you’d have more friends here if you didn’t have a stick shoved up your ass.”

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to become a doctor.”

Everyone was getting really sick of your fighting, so they banded together and made things worse. They had badgered you until Doris had enough and dragged you to Molly’s. You refused to drink or eat anything, resulting in more snide remarks between you and Noah. Just when everyone was developing a migraine before they were anywhere even close to drunk your parents burst through the door and marched over to you. And suddenly, everyone in the bar, including your siblings, were subjected to and twenty-minute rant from your parents about how you should be grateful they pushed you towards medical school and all the activities that got you scholarships, that they didn’t abandon you, and that they clothed and fed you because a third child cost so much money, how you never took anything seriously and were always joking around, and how you were a disgrace to the family. Once they finished, your dad dragged you out by your arm, your mom followed muttering about why couldn’t you be more like Gabby and Antonio.

You walked into the ED the next day as robotic as ever. The pitiful and awkward stares were ignored with ease, it was something you were quite used to if you were honest. Your parents were always scrutinized by your teachers and DCFS. At the end of the day, though, they weren’t abusive enough for any charges or housing changes to be set. They weren’t like that with Gabby and Antonio, who had mostly moved out by the time you were in kindergarden, you were their last chance to help them prove to their family that they didn’t fail as parents. And they made sure you knew it.

“Dr. Dawson, you’ve got a patient in treatment one. Also, uh, are you okay? I feel pretty bad about last night.”

“Oh, don’t worry about anything. I’m fine, and my parents were right I should’ve been studying. It was a poor decision on my part not to. I’m gonna get to this patient, but you really don’t need to feel bad, okay?”

She nodded absently as you turned your back to her. ”Hi, I'm Dr. Dawson, can you tell me what brought you in today?”

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Your patient had just gone up to the OR to have a blood clot removed and you made your way to the doctor’s lounge, followed by Noah Sexton. ”Hey, Y/N, are you-”

”Yes, Noah, I am okay. Yes, I'm sure. I am fine, I am always fine.”

”From my experience when people say they're fine they're usually not.”

”Noah, I am okay.”

“I don’t believe you.”

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The next few weeks were a maze of pitiful stares, hushed concerned words, and a silent Noah. All of it was completely unnerving. It all came to a head when Dr. Charles approached in the ED you about starting therapy with him, talking continuously about all the points ‘brought to his attention’, not even giving you the time to tell him the majority were false. “Excuse me?”

Your stomach coiled in anger at his words. Not only were you more than capable of doing your job, but you already had a therapist. With basket case parents like yours, it was blatantly obvious that therapy was required. But the audacity of your co-workers to gossip so much that it came to the point over half the points Charles brought up were complete BS was astounding. Not only that, but he’d apparently spent the last few days internet stalking you to try and find some of your demons. “Dr. Charles, do you consider me a danger or liability to any of the patients or doctors at this hospital because of my relationship with my parents?”

“No, you actually seem to be well balanced mentally.”

“Then what, on earth, made you think it was appropriate to go around behind my back asking everyone at the hospital their opinion about me and what happened at Molly’s, or stalk me online to try and get a read on me, and then ask me blatantly at work, in the middle of the shift, in front of all my co-workers and superiors? What made you think it was okay to loudly bombard me with rumours and hearsay while I’m working?”

“Well, I thought that since it’s my job to check on all the ED docs, I’d check on you.”

“... You’re joking, right? I am the only person in this department who goes to therapy. Don’t kid yourself, you don’t check on anyone here. You judge them and make sure they know it. And quite honestly, you don’t have the best reputation for looking out for the mental and emotional state of your colleagues. This confrontation was not only completely inappropriate, but rude, obnoxious, presumptuous, riddled with unchecked errors, and unprofessional.”

“That’s not how I would word it.”

“It’s how I see it, and how I’ll word it with HR.”

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No one was pitying you anymore, not since the tongue lashing you gave Dr. Charles, who was on very thin ice with the hospital. While bringing up Robin and Sarah may have been a bit of a low blow, it exposed some issues with Dr. Charles that needed to be addressed. The only person who acted as if you were made of glass was Noah Sexton. While he had been a bit of a pain in the ass, this was worse. He was being sickeningly nice to you and it was getting on your last nerve. Yes, your parents were abusive. Yes, you had a messed up and traumatic childhood. But did that limit your abilities? No. Did that make you mentally unstable requiring therapy and fragility from your coworkers? Absolutely not.

He came in with coffee exactly the way you liked it, again. With a muffin, again. “You have to stop.”

“Stop what, Y/N?”

“Stop acting weird. You don’t like me, you hate me, actually. The only reason you’re being nice to me is because my parents resent my existence. I do not need or want your pity. So stop treating me like a china doll, and start treating me like your coworker.”

“Okay, okay, I uh... I’m sorry. I just, I feel guilty, okay? I gave you such a hard time for being so frigid and then when your parents showed up at Molly’s and started screaming at you for existing and having a life of your own, it just all made sense. And I gave you shit and trouble for coping with your crazy-ass parents. And then Dr. Charles came by to talk to you and I just felt even worse because even though I didn’t tell him anything, it was our fighting that put the spotlight on you in the first place. You shouldn’t have had your dirty laundry aired to the entire hospital, that’s happened to me a few times and it’s horrible, and I feel bad because I know that I was a contributing factor to all the shit you’ve had to deal with at work.”

“I get where you’re coming from, but let’s be real, everything would’ve turned out exactly the same way if you weren’t involved. The gossip mill runs strong at Gaffney.”

“Yeah, it does. I still feel bad.”

“Well, you’re forgiven then. So you can stop treading delicately, buying me coffee, and being creepily nice to me.”

“I am not being ‘creepily nice’! And how can being nice be creepy anyway?”

“Yesterday you followed me around offering to help me take my gloves on and off constantly, to the point where a patient who came in for falling out of the ceiling above the women’s changeroom said ‘that’s just weird’.”

“... Okay. I’ll stop. But I gotta be honest, I don’t think I can go back to arguing with you all the time.”

“That’s fine, just stop acting so weird that a couple I caught having kinky sex after an STD swab said ‘that made us really uncomfortable’.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Seriously, you didn’t have to tell me twice.”

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SIX MONTHS LATER

You and Noah had actually managed to become good friends and roommates. Shortly after he started acting like a normal person around you, not an instigator or a psycho, you found yourself enjoying his company. And yesterday, when you’d come home to find your room completely torn apart by your mother because your father had tried to frame you for using weed, you were done. Most of what you owned had been destroyed in your mother’s search, which sucked, but it made packing up all your stuff into your car much easier.

So far you’d ignored 43 texts, 12 calls, two visits from Gabby when she brought in a patient, and one visit from Antonio who didn’t even bother trying to lie to you. He also threatened to impound your car, you threatened to tell Voight about the time he and Lindsay got drunk and hooked up. It didn’t even matter that she was in New York now, Voight wouldn’t even blink before bludgeoning him down. He swore at you, “how could you break mami’s heart like this?”, and “can’t you just behave and do what you’re told for once?”

You looked him dead in the eyes, heart beating erratically at you older brother supporting your parents belittling and abusing you, “You sound like dad Antonio.”, watched his face fall, and left. Noah stopped him when he went to follow you. “You good?”

“Uh, not really. I don’t have a place to go tonight.”

“Did your mom kick you out?”

“No, I left. I can’t do it anymore. I break out in hives whenever I even think about my mother now. I just can’t go back.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I have been looking for a roommate, we can move you into my place after shift.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Now come on, it’s prank week. Stohl pissed off Manning last week and she’s been planning revenge ever since, you do not want to miss this.”

And you didn’t. You entered the ED to find one of the most hated doctors in med spitting out Gatorade. “WHaT thE heLL?! That was sooo-ughghghg-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence before running to the doctor’s lounge to throw up in the bathroom. To Natalie’s credit, she didn’t crack a smile or react at all as she gracefully stepped over the spilled orange Gatorade. She briefly reminded you of a fae, graceful, beautiful, and cunning as all hell. You made a mental note never to cross her. Later at lunch, Natalie opened her sushi container, slightly deconstructed each piece, loaded all the pieces up with wasabi, reconstructed them, and popped one in her mouth. Everyone sitting near her had their eyes flash in recognition. Stohl had a habit of stealing other people’s food, and no matter how many times anyone told him to stop, they were just bullied into compliance. As a result, everyone had to dictate their food choices around his palette. Which meant no spicy food. Something that sucked for nearly everyone because hot food was a favourite for most people in the ED. But Manning wasn’t taking his shit. Not today. Something that worried everyone sitting around her because she would get in trouble for eating her own food how she liked it. It wasn’t until one of the HR workers, Holly, sat down beside Natalie and engaged in conversation that everyone realized the full scope of her plans. Stohl plopped down beside you and stole half of your sandwich right out of your hand. Ranting and raving, insulting everyone, stealing food, he made his way all around the circular cafeteria table until he got to Nat. He scooped up to pieces and threw them in his mouth just after he finished the words ‘insolent underlings’. Everyone held their breath as they watched his pale face redden exponentially. His eyes widened. And then he screamed.

He yelled, he swore. “I’m going to report you to HR! You tried to poison me!”

“You stole food from everyone, something inappropriate, unethical, and unprofessional. You stole her food. That she made spicy to her tastes. She didn’t try to poison you.”

“And just who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Holly Scott, from HR.”

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You and Noah were doing great, as roommates and as friends. “Hey, do you have any plans for dinner tonight? My parents invited me over for dinner and they asked me to extend an invite to you. It’s nothing major, they wanted to meet my previous roommates, too. Make sure you’re not a hooligan.”

“Okay, sounds fun. What should I bring?”

“Yourself...?”

“It’s rude to show up at someone else’s home without a gift.”

“You don’t need to bring my parents a gift.”

“Oh, I’m bringing a gift. I’m just asking you for some input.”

“Okay, well they really like wheelie shoes-”

“Ha, oh my god, I meant for what your parents would like, not you. And want wheelie shoes? Those have been out for a while, Noah.”

“Hey, do not laugh at me! They are just a very effective and fun way to get around.”

“Would you like them to light up too?”

“... Is that an option?”

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You knocked on the door while Noah rolled his eyes at you. “I grew up here!”

“Well you don’t live here anymore and it’s rude to just barge into someone’s home and act like you own the place.”

“Oh, you must be Y/N! I wasn’t expecting anyone to knock, usually, Noah just barges in and acts like he owns the place. Come in, come in. It’s freezing outside.” You gave Noah a side-eyed smirk as you took off your coat, while he looked bashfully embarrassed. “Uh, here Ms. Sexton, I brought some homemade empanadas, they can be put in the fridge or kept in the freezer, and it’s best to reheat them in the oven. 350 F, ten minutes from the fridge and about 20 if they were put in the freezer.”

“Oh, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I was raised that when you go over to someone’s house for dinner or an event, you bring a gift. And it was either this or a house plant.”

“Ha, good idea going with the food, it’s a Sexton family trait that will kill all the plants we touch. Thank you very much.”

“Hello, you must be Y/N. It;s wonderful to meet you- and what smells so good?”

“Y/N brought empanadas, and they are going away so that you and I can enjoy them later. Now everyone, to the dining room, dinner is just about done.”

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Things started to change a bit a few months later when Choi had to physically restrain Noah from attacking a drunk bar fight patient who called you a slut in the middle of the ED. You’d been confused but Maggie just kept saying that it was a matter of time.

When you’d been hanging around at Molly’s with Noah, Sarah, and Darren, Noah had his arm casually wrapped around your shoulders, something your sister gave you the eyebrow for from her place at the bar.

After you’d been mugged and beaten, you’d run to the 21st, where your brother promptly unleashed the most fearsome demon hell has ever cowered from, AKA Hank Voight, he also called Noah. And when your brother finally made an arrest and got Voight to calm down a little, he’d entered the breakroom to find you fast asleep, curled up against Noah. Who sat in an incredibly uncomfortable position, holding you and stroking your back. You missed the dark look that crossed his face, or the one of fear that had crossed Noah’s but something of an understanding had fallen to Noah. The two of you needed to talk.

So you did, and it went well, so well that you planned a date. Then another one. And another one, until you two had been dating for six months and figured it was time to tell your families. You were shaking in your boots, the Sexton’s were all incredibly close and incredibly doting on Noah, so even though they liked you, you had absolutely no clue as to what the reaction would be. To your relief, it was happiness, they loved you as much as Noah apparently, and they relished in the changed you’d caused in Noah.

Your family, on the other hand, did not react well. Which was why you’d made sure that you told them in a very public place, and had only ordered waters before you told them. There was yelling, screaming, your father waving his arms around so much Antonio had to use his cop voice on him. In the end, you and Noah had been there for around five minutes before throwing some cash at the waitress as a tip for leaving her with your family, and hauling ass out of there. The two of you had ended up just eating pizza on the boardwalk in your fancy clothes and heading back to the apartment late.You both had work the next day, but while you were an intern, Noah was not. And while you were off giving a patient a sponge bath, your siblings cornered Noah at the nurses desk. “Sexton, is there a place the three of us can talk?”

“Uh, sure, this conference room is free...”

“Perfect.”

“So, I take it this is about-”

“Nuh-uh. You do not talk. We do.”

“You are dating our baby sister.”

“We may not be as close to her as you are with your sister, but she still means a lot to us.”

“We love her. We are two people with some pretty dangerous skills. It is for these two reasons that you will not hurt her. Ever.”

“And if you do, don’t forget who I work with.”

“No one will ever find your body.”

“Are we clear?”

“Uh, hmmh... Clear. Crystal clear.”

“Good. Now do you know where Y/N is? We’d like to take the both of you out to lunch or something, just the four of us, to make up for the dinner of many disasters.”

#One Chicago #chicago med #Chicago Fire #Chicago PD #noah sexton #noah sexton x reader #antonio dawson #gabby dawson #maggie lockwood

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live-long-and-time-warp · 4 years ago

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It’s hard to leave your toxic friends... but it’s so worth it

I don’t normally do this, but as I sat in a Saturday morning meeting thinking about all of the things I felt this past Friday, I felt compelled to share my story.

A brief background: throughout college and for several years afterward, I considered my tight-knit group of college friends as some of my closest. In addition to my best friend of 20 years, some friends from high school, my work team, and some other dear friends scattered across the globe and throughout the U.S., this group of college friends was who I considered to be my foundation. This group of friends was extremely important to me, but it was not without its bumps in the road.

In my senior year of college, I had a falling out with one of these friends, the ringleader I’ll call her. I say this because she is quite honestly the source of 95% of my problems with this group. She is a master manipulator, and an expert gaslighter. There were a few others that contributed to this too, but she was by far the worst.

I can’t elaborate on every single thing that this person said and did over our 7 year “friendship” but a brief summary would be: asking me point blank if I thought I might be a lesbian after coming out as bi (to this friend group and in her presence, I might add) only several months prior; asking me how much money I spend on books about “Chernobyl” every month with the implication that she’s concerned about my finances; telling me that my resume may not be as impressive as I think it is (I’m the deputy director of a nonprofit with both state-based and national projects and had been for close to a year prior to this conversation); would clean up the crumbs from in front of me while I was still eating and comment on my messiness; told me that one of our mutual friends doesn’t like discussing politics with me because I get too fired up (again, I work for a nonprofit that deals with social justice); telling me that crying while comforting my friend who had just lost a loved one to suicide after they began crying was weird and that I “stole her thunder” (we were slightly drunk, I’m an empath, and she was talking about some deeply personal things that moved me and crying was my natural response... and oddly, she was appreciative of my tears because I was “the only person that actually stayed with her”); and so much more that I know I’m forgetting.

There were many other things more insidious, including gaslighting me about my inclusion in several group activities and why it should have been obvious why one friend disliked me enough to not invite me to her wedding after years of claiming cluelessness.

In our senior year, I left that friend for the first time after she humiliated me at a party by commenting loudly and with condescension on my weight. When I cut ties with her, I felt as if I had just left an abusive relationship, and for a while I didn’t want to seek a friendship with her again.

But the other friends in our group still hung out with both of us, so eventually I allowed myself to be sucked back in.

In the years after we graduated, I thought that this person had actually changed- I worked abroad for a year after college, and after returning I saw a marked difference in her demeanor and how she interacted with us. She seemed more self-aware of how her words and actions adversely affected other people, and I thought that maybe the ugliness of that horrible portion of my senior year was now just a faded scar.

But then things escalated very quickly. Over the course of several weeks at the beginning of this year, I started to feel myself questioning whether I had made the right choice in rejoining the group: I was so sure of how I felt after I left it the first time, I felt so empowered and free. So why did I allow myself to rejoin them? Was it really the right choice?

I got my answer a week after the insurrection at the Capitol. One friend who already had a history of saying hateful things about women (which I tried to put a stop to to no avail) finally went full white supremacist asshole, and instead of joining me in calling his comments unacceptable and defending me as he mansplained my job to me, the ringleader criticized me and told me that “I can work in activism and politics and be wrong”.

That’s the moment I finally woke up.

I left the chat that very moment. Every time they added me back without my consent, I left again.

Every time I got message from the ringleader that was full of gaslighting comments and false apologies, I didn’t say a word. Just deleted the message. Finally, I was able to gather the strength needed to block those toxic friends from all social media and my phone. One of these friends was someone I tried to make like me for years after I was told that she hated me for no reason, by her own admission.

Some may not agree with this approach, but I made the choice to cut contact and go radio silent on my own after consulting my friends, specifically my best friend who had been there for me during the incident my senior year.

As weeks went by, some of the true friends from that group reached out, and then immediately backed off after my polite request for space, indicating that I was welcome back at any time and they were always here for me.

The ringleader chose the opposite approach. She continued to gaslight me, made a group chat with myself, the white supremacist, and herself. She sent me messages from her second account, one that I remembered to unfriend but forgot to block. She told me that if I don’t “course correct” by a certain date she would block me on my account (too late, bro) and that “we wish you all the best”. This implies that it was on behalf of the entire group, something I know three of them would never do. However, at this point, I have had to distance myself from all of those friends so as not to give the ringleader the attention she wants from me.

I lost over half of my closest friends over night. It felt like my skeleton had been torn from my body. I considered giving in several times and reaching out to them. But now, over a month later, I understand how necessary it was to excise what was essentially a malignant tumor. The Chernobyl researcher in me wants to compare it to Acute Radiation Syndrome (ARS): an unseen poison that slowly infiltrates every part of your mind and body and rots them from the inside out.

2020 was an extremely hard year for me, as it was for so many. I am so lucky and privileged to have been in the financial situation that I was and had the support of my genuine friends and family.

But it was still the worst year of my life. I have suffered from pretty bad OCD for most of my life, and while I usually keep it under control, last year it became nearly impossible to do so. I also fell very deeply into clinical depression, and worked to the point of burn out and exhaustion. The primary thoughts I had during this depression were:

“Why aren’t you working? You’re lazy.”

“You’re a failure, you’re 26 and haven’t applied to grad school yet.”

“You piece of shit, still living with your parents? What a disappointment.”

“What is wrong with you?”

It was unbearable. I’m honestly not entirely sure how I survived it, but I think a certain 3-year-old goddaughter of mine and a few close, real friends had something to do with it.

I worked very hard with my friends, a therapist, and a psychiatrist to overcome this depression and get my OCD back under control. Now, I feel like such a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I still have depression, and the OCD will always be with me (like a bad habit... literally?); but I am so much more happy with myself and my life, as I should be.

And I am very, very, very well aware that therapy was not the only reason I have recently begun feeling this way. It’s very hard to see that you’re being manipulated while it’s happening. Because of my trusting nature, sometimes manipulative comments would be interpreted as heartfelt guidance.

It wasn’t until I started the journey away from them that I saw just how much this group and their negativity (because even the best of them weren’t always the kindest) impacted my mental health.

The event that made me want to share this story is this: yesterday was a rough work day. As a full-time community organizer, I am pretty much burnt out all of the time. Breaks are taken, but with projects addressing issues from COVID relief to systemic racism and police brutality, it never feels like enough.

I had to officially take a step back as a sole lead on an annual event that I organized for two years, and it was gut-wrenching.

Now, I cry often, but I don’t usually get to have therapeutic cries. You know what I mean? Like, as you cry, all of the tension that built up in your body by negative feelings is finally being released with every breath and sob?

Well, the dam finally broke in a team meeting on Friday. I started sobbing and couldn’t stop. And my colleagues were so, so kind. They let me vent, they let me cry, they would not accept my apologies for crying. They told me that I was strong for setting up boundaries, and that they were here for me.

We spent a lot of time at the end of the meeting each talking about our self-care routines. And as I sit here typing this, I am actively trying not to cry at the purity of their support.

This experience has taught me what real friends are. Real friends do not put limitations on your emotions and fears.

Real friends do not give you deadlines for processing your feelings.

Real friends do not criticize you for things that, while they may not agree with, do not affect anyone’s health or marginalize anyone.

Real friends don’t marginalize vulnerable communities.

Real friends help and support you with constructive criticism (when it’s asked for) and love, not patronization and manipulation.

I thought I knew all of these things before, but I know now that I am still learning... and that that is perfectly okay. I don’t regret most of the times we shared together. I am appreciative of the positive memories that their friendships gave me.

Three of the friends in this group are actually good people, and maybe one day when the dust is settled I’ll reach out to them and establish one-on-one friendships with them (if they want to).

And I have to thank my real friends, including @tryingtobealwaystrying, for all saying the exact same thing: you deserve so much happiness and fuck all of those guys.

So, the point of this post is to tell everyone this: you can leave your toxic friends. It’s incredibly difficult, stressful, and honestly traumatizing. And there’s no shame in needing time or feeling unable to leave those friends now. There’s also no shame in returning to those friends.

But please know, from this nerd to the reader: anyone that makes you feel any less than the beautiful, amazing human being you are and doesn’t want to help you become an even better human on your own terms is not a true friend. They don’t deserve you or the light you can bring into their lives.

And every agonizing step away from those friends is a step closer to a happier, healthier life.

#toxic frienship #mental health #living with ocd #depression #storytime

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sunarintoes · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Whoever: [Oikawa]

Synopsis: two broken strangers hold a mutual understanding of each other as they silently complete jigsaw puzzles together every Wednesday afternoon.

WC: 4K

TW: mental health issues, reader sucks at math, swearing, angst (but a lot of fluff) please do not read if you feel uncomfortable by these themes. Also: this fic has nothing to do with volleyball and is set in a clinic for mental health

Note: this is in no way meant to romanticise mental health issues, it is simply a story of a person (reader) who is struggling with their mental health and eventually gets better through the silent support of a friend she makes (Oikawa)

18/6/2020

Dear diary?

Is that how I'm supposed to start these entries off? I'm not sure. Well, uh...today I went to see a psychologist for the first time. Her name is Mary and she gave me this book, told me to try it out and write in it as much as possible. I feel awkward though. I don't think I'll use this.

Until next time,

30/6/2020

So uh… hi?

My therapist told me to write here even if I'm not sad? So if something memorable happens. I don't know honestly. This is way too awkward. Maybe I'll get used to this. Maybe not?

Cya,

18/7/2020

I stayed true to my words, I really haven't written here that much. I'm doing good and I don't think there's anything wrong with me! I'm not sure why I'm being forced to go to therapy. I feel how I feel and it doesn't matter! I know there are people worse off than me and I don’t have the right to feel sad - I have a good family, good friends, go to a nice school and I have money (or well, my parents do). So why should I feel sad? And I just have a resting bitch face. It's not called being ‘depressed’ or whatever.

Asides from all that, the only reason I haven't kicked up a huge fuss about being forced to be interrogated is the fact that every Wednesday - the day I visit my psychologist, there's always the same cute boy sitting in the same seat opposite me, not to mention the same somber expression he wears.

I'm not sure why, but I feel oddly connected to him. As if our minds are connected and in tune. I feel like I know him and he knows me. I've been reading too many books. Lol! There's no way we have that connection. Besides, I've only seen him about 4 times. Yeah, I'm definitely making this up in my sad, lonesome head.

Farewell for now,

21/7/2020

Dear diary,

I saw him again. I still don't know his name. But today he looked up at me and smiled a bit, I tried to smile back but I probably just looked angry. Not that I have a problem smiling or that I'm angry or upset. I'm just stuck on default - stuck with a heavy frown on my face.

Sincerely

29/7/2020

It's a shame, really; I've spent so long trying so hard to get better. And I do want to get better, but it’s not easy. If I'm being honest, I thought I was getting better but when the quarantine hit I began to bottle things up again. Not seeing my feelings, having them buried deep beneath - locked away in the deepest pits of my heart… well, it was soothing in a sense. That way they did not exist, they were forgotten. I didn't have to deal with them. But I forgot the most important thing of all, ‘with good comes bad’ they say, I wish I had listened - to myself and to those around me, that bottling up feelings is really the worst thing to do. Because the longer you ignore them, the stronger they grow and the darker they get. I'm an idiot; really. I was a coward, too scared of my untamed, ugly feelings to face them head on, too scared to ask for support to help me face them. So here I am now, wallowing in the depths of my despair with an increasingly depressing inner monologue, typing this out in tune with it. I'm really bashing myself up, bottling up is the most harmful way to inflict violence upon one’s self, and I'm really feeling it. My brain hurts from narrating my problems and inner thoughts - it’s working overtime as a sort of coping mechanism. But what hurts the most - what burns the most, is my ever dry throat and teary eyes. Having to swallow the ever present lump that happens to make itself comfortable right at the back of my throat seems to really suck the moisture out of my mouth, hence my dry throat. My eyes really sting, the tears come and go, and boy, let me tell you - it takes so much strength to fight them. To stop them from rolling down as they would wish to. Feeling the tears well up and then forced to go away really burns. I'm not sure why; I do know that despite not having cried even once, my eyes burn as if I havent stopped crying since last week.

As dramatic as this is, this is how I feel. Quite underwhelming considering I've been harboring such strong, hating and dangerous feelings to myself since march. Though, this is my first time letting these frustrations out. I'm glad I've finally realised the burdens I carry. There's not much I can do.

See you next time,

2/8/2020

Hi,

Didn't expect to write that much in here but shit has been going down this week. Today my math teacher kept me in to tell me that I failed my math test, she told me that it was irresponsible of me to get as low as I got. The whole time she scolded me, I felt uncomfortable and like I could cry - I was close too, the tears were forming in my eyes. She asked me if I was planning on dropping maths, she basically suggested for me to drop maths. Oh! She also told me that I had to stop drawing in my book and that it was preventing me from learning because apparently ‘if you draw that just proves to me that you have no idea what's going on and you don't want to ask questions.’ and I'll give her that, I don’t - to both things.

The seats are so close it makes me anxious, I don't want everyone around me to know that I don't understand math! And besides, I seriously do not understand it so she'd have to sit with me the entire lesson to explain everything… I think there's something wrong with me.

Until next time,

3/8/2020

Hey, me again.

It’s still slightly weird to vent into a little diary but I'm getting there I guess. I'm so frustrated! Today has been the worst fucking day that I've ever experienced. For starters, I did double math for periods one and two, and then we got our tests back and I failed :) yep 23%!

I'm just soooo happy. If I'm being honest I don't care anymore. Maths is hard and no matter how much I study I fail at it. There's no point in me even trying now. I give up. What's worse is we had a substitute teacher and when she handed out the papers she gave my paper to some other girl in the class - who then of course, proceeded to have a fit about how bad the test is and that the tests were definitely mixed up. Well, they were but did she really have to explain to the whole class about how bad the score is? It was embarrassing to have to put my hand up and get the paper - my test, handed to me. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes into my body. Right then and there I had a panic attack - I had already felt on edge since yesterday but the test conforming results plus the fact that everyone knew how badly I scored tipped me over the edge. I felt the tears well up but I pushed them back - refusing to show everyone how weak and pathetic I am.

I excused myself to the bathroom and cried a little before texting my friends and telling them that I was about to have a meltdown. Unfortunately they weren't online and didn't respond, I had to go back to class anyway.

When the break came, I left to go back to the bathroom - my tears were still clouding my vision and I couldn't get rid of them. I think I may be superstitious but while I was walking I was stuck behind the girls who saw my test - they were talking about their tests. I didn't really care but then one of them said ‘how much do you need to pass?’ and the others just laughed, so she continued and said ‘seriously! Is 24 percent a pass?’ this made the other girls laugh even harder, it felt like a slap to the face. Like they were indirectly mocking me. The same girl then said ‘surely 25 percent’ which again, was met with laughter.

It really hurt. Even if I was just overreacting. Surely not. They had to be talking about me. Why else would they talk about low test grades when they are literally on to top of the class.

I just want to disappear.

Sincerely,

8/8/2020

I dropped my Ipad today - twice if I may add. I cried when it hit the floor, the protective screen shattering into small, sharp pieces. The ‘up’ volume button is stuck and can no longer be used, neither can the ‘on/off’ button. Guess I can only use the home button to turn it on and wait for it to go to sleep if I don't want to use it. I'm kinda fed up with life. I want to be taken away. I don't care how far I go. I just want to leave.

Not soKindly,

14/8/2020

Dear Diary,

Today has been alright, I made mini cookies which helped put a smile on my face. Ever since the first time I exploded in this diary, I've felt a humongous weight lift off of my shoulders. Picture this, a single person holding up 50 tonnes of bricks and then telling themself and everyone around them ‘I’m fine! I can do this! I don't need help!’ but then one day, the person feels even more bricks pile up which becomes overloaded and they can't keep it up anymore. So they begin to crumble under all the pressure and the weight until they just explode! After their explosion a new person appears out of nowhere and helps them hold the stack of bricks. It is not that lighter, but it's the extra support - the extra pair of hands helping keep the first person stand straight, that really means something. I'm not sure if that makes sense but it’s how I can describe how I feel. Still feels heavy in my chest, but this time it just feels a bit lighter - like the world isn't entirely against me.

From,

30/8/2020

Dear Diary

When I went to the clinic earlier this week, something unexpected happened. The cute boy - who i like to call my ‘Therapy Buddy’ pointed over to the small table where a bunch of unfinished puzzles lay. I was confused at first but still walked over there. We sat down opposite each other and offered small smiles to one another. And without saying anything we finished off the jigsaw puzzles until we had to part ways.

For the first time in a while, I felt calm - as if my nerves were soothed. Maybe I should upgrade his name to ‘Miracle Buddy’ because I am 100% sure the reason I felt at peace was his doing - his presence.

Until next time,

7/9/2020

Dear Diary,

Therapy Buddy and I completed the jigsaw puzzles again today; no words were exchanged. I think he’s cute. I don't have a crush on him. I literally don't know him. I just like being in his presence. And besides, we've only done this twice. Who's to say we'll do it next week?

Cya,

15/9/2020

Whats up bitch Diary

Haha. Therapy Buddy is definitely smart. He was so quick to complete a 200 piece puzzle! I barely helped… he's cute when he concentrates as well. Oh yeah, we did end up doing them today. I noticed he also carries a diary with him. Maybe he writes in it like I do? Who knows. I hope he's written about me… I mean he probably hasn't but who knows, am I right?

Sincerely

21/9/2020

Hey Diary,

I'm really struggling going to school, I find it hard to concentrate in math class. Actually yeah, I like going to school but it's when I step into the math class, when I go in I feel my chest tighten and my throat dry. I have spoken with my parents a lot. They said I can drop maths if I want to. I'm still not sure what I want to do in the future but I have a faint idea: a psychologist or an artist. I need maths for psychology I think. I'm not sure. I think I'll just stick with it and hope next year goes better.

From,

29/9/2020

I look forward to going to the clinic. It no longer feels like an interrogation now that I walk in with an open mind. I'm still not getting much better with maths so I asked to be dropped down a level and now that i'm in a new classroom, a new environment, i feel less nervous. Maybe i’ll be able to get at least something done.

Kindly,

12/10/2020

This is a disaster, the other week when Therapy Buddy and I were sitting together - in comfortable silence might I add, we mixed our diaries! I can't believe this. I didn't realise until I got home! I had no ways of contacting him either. I hope he didn't read through it. If he did, I'm in trouble, I'm not doing good. I feel sick in my stomach and my throat is constricting. Ok I'm going to go, I'm having a panic attack just remembering.

Until next time

13/10/2020

Hey Diary!

In the midst of panic yesterday, I missed an important detail. Therapy Buddy left his name and phone number in my book. He must have opened up to write in it only to realise it wasn't his book. I hope. I'm a bit scared to text him. He has a pretty name - Oikawa Toru.

If I'm going to be honest, I read a little of his diary! I couldn't help it, I just wanted to write my feelings but I opened up on his latest entry, I read it and I shouldn't have. I feel a bit guilty but now, more than ever, I feel closer to him. He's feeling a similar way to me.

Yeah, I think I'll go for it. I think I'll text him.

Sincerely,

20/10/2020

What's up Diary!?

I'm glad I texted Toru! Since then we've been texting non stop but we've made a promise - to not speak to each other in person until we’re both doing better. That's fine with me. I just know my voice would betray me if I decided to chat him up in person. I've found a sense of comfort with Toru, he's no longer just my Therapy Buddy (although that's his contact name), he's now my friend who I can seek comfort in, and he seeks comfort in me too. I hate to say it, but I think I may have a small crush on him. This is a pain in the ass, I really hope I don't. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. But he’s really cute

Kind regards,

25/10/2020

Hey diary,

I'm feeling a lot mentally better, I wish I had realised sooner that going to therapy was helpful. Having someone who just listens to you and doesn't give their input unless you want it is soothing. I'm not as anxious to go to math class, of course I'm still trying but I've adopted the mindset: what's done is done, all I can do is look forward.

I have good news about Toru. Today he said to me ‘when I’m ready I want to love you and for you to love me.’ I know I don’t love him but I’m not an idiot, I know I have some more-than-friends feelings towards him.

From,

27/11/2020

Dear Diary,

Things have been really looking up for me. Im feeling a lot happier and the weight in my chest is a lot lighter. I almost feel free. I've been thinking of career paths a lot lately. I think I want to be a psychologist. If it weren't for Mary, who knows where I would be now. Thanks to her I've been able to feel better and do better. I want to be like her. I want to be able to help people through their problems - whether it be a minor inconvenience or a major one, because I know how it feels. I understand what it feels like to have the whole world against you - as if every force and person in the universe were working unanimously together to bring me down, ‘but I survived and so can you.’ That's what I will tell them. And also ‘We can get through this together,’ and let's not forget ‘this will be challenging so we both have to put in 100 percent to getting better!’

Sincerely

12/12/2020

Hey diary,

I am full of joy.

Today Toru texted me and asked me if i wanted to spend New Years Eve with him! I said yes and were going to go to the park to have a picnic and watch the fireworks! I'm so excited. I hope he is too! I just cannot wait.

Oh yeah! I can't believe i haven't written it in until now! I've just been so happy and excited and wow but the two of us went out to a cafe and he bought me a drink - we still haven't exchanged words and spent the whole time sitting next together while texting.

In that moment I felt so happy, I knew that this is the guy I want to be with. I have a crush on him and wow... I it feels good to get that off my chest and out into the open,,, I wonder if he’s ready? It doesn’t matter, I’ll wait as long as I have to because Toru is special and I don’t want to lose him.

It is New Years Eve and I have made plans to catch up with Toru, he's going to pick me up at my house and together we’ll walk to the nature park where we’ll spend the night having a picnic and being in each other’s presence. In my small bag I have snacks and drinks packed, along with some board games - why not? After all, I'm planning on confessing to him tonight and I thought doing it while engaging in one of the things that brought us together was the way to go.

There is a timid knock on the door and I quickly run to answer it.

As soon as I open the door I’m met with a cardboard poster with the words ‘Happy New Years Eve, Yn!!’ written in big, large letters. I smile as I look at it, Toru definitely was not an artistic person but the thought was sweet and made my heart swell. I pull out my phone and text him a thank you before receiving one back from him; ‘you look extra beautiful… Yn.’

I read the text a few times before my brain finally gets the message, a large smile creeps up onto my face and I hear him try to stifle a laugh.

I turn away from Toru and yell out ‘bye bye! I'll see you tonight!!’

When I turn back I see Toru reaching out his hand; as if he were asking me to hold it.

Toru’s hand is pretty, our fingers are linked together and they rest comfortably. Nothing feels forced, it all feels natural. I look up at him and wonder if he feels the same, as if he knew what I was thinking when he squeezes my hand. Yeah, we definitely have some strange connection.

We spend the whole journey to the park texting, and as much as I love texting him and hearing him quietly chuckle during conversations it no longer feels like enough. I want more. As greedy and selfish as that sounds. I know I said I would wait for him - as long as it would take, but I'm getting impatient. Tonight i'm going to speak to him… I hope he does as well.

The park is beautiful, the flowers are trees surrounding the border and trap out the outside world. It almost feels like I'm in a magical fairy realm - or something like that.

We found a spot near a garden bed and I noticed the arrangement of flowers fairly quickly. I find it funny, the flowers almost represent everything i feel for Toru - maybe our meeting was indeed, fate and maybe this was fate telling me to confess.

I pull out a 5000 piece jigsaw and text ‘wanna play?’ which Toru of course agrees.

I have had fun, all night we’ve spent playing various games and eating snacks. We still haven't spoken and that's getting me down. I can't help the intrusive thoughts - ‘does he not like me?’ ‘he's not ready’ ‘you're just a friend.’ I try to push them out of my head but before I crumble I find a new thought: ‘maybe he's just too shy to make the first move.’

That is, it was up to me and it was the perfect time to confess - ten minutes until the new year. I quickly got up and made an impromptu bouquet of the flowers that resided next to us.

Shaking, I turned towards him. “Hey… i’m Ln Yn and this is for you…” I handed him the bouquet and tried my best to ignore the look on his face - I couldn't tell if it was shock out of happiness or anger, “you asked to know the meanings right?” I move closer to him and point out a flower, “well, see that flower? It's a light purple lilac that resembles young love… and this one here, it's called a belledonne which means silence, this one’s a begonia - representing dark thoughts, oh and this one! It's a pink camellia which symbolises longing - particularly longing for a romantic relationship with the receiver, and this daisy right here means innocence and hope. And lastly, the hibiscus represents delicate beauty.’ I swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked up at him, I didn't realise how close I got to him - our lips were mere centimeters away.

‘Hey… I'm Oikawa Toru and I like you too. Why don't we give a relationship a try?’

I smile. I smile so large I feel my cheeks hurt. This, this is the happiest i've ever been. ‘I’d like that.’ Toru smiles with me, he’s beautiful, even with the dak thoughts plaguing his mind.

‘I like your voice’ we say to each other before laughing.

‘Wow.. we really said that at the same time huh?’ he laughs. Instead of responding I grab a hold of his hand once more and squeeze it. ‘It’s kinda annoying, I wanted to confess first…’

‘Not my fault. Bet it wouldn't have been as romantic as what I did.’

‘So telling me the meanings of flowers is romantic?’

I gasp as he doubles over in laughter and without realising we fell into an easy conversation - much like one we would have over text. Everything with Toru felt natural.

The fireworks go off signalling the beginning of the new year, Toru leans in closer and his eyes don't leave mine.

‘Hey,’ he says softly, ‘can I kiss you?’ I gulp and nod, within seconds his lips were delicately pressed against mine, they were soft and smooth - even if they were slightly chapped. They felt natural against my lips. The kiss was short and sweet. Deciding that it wasn't enough to satisfy me, I went back in after we pulled apart and we both smiled into the kiss - our lips passionately moving together, like two jigsaw pieces that were made for each other.

When we pull back, Toru drags me into his chest and says, ‘I'm ready to love you.’

Taglist: @ladyrenart

Hushudhidwhuwihahuaf ïm im sorry this is horrible and I definitely don’t plan on using this style of writing anytime soon! I promise the rest of the series will be written nicely !

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #fluff #x reader #angst #oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst

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didntwanderstillgotlost · 4 years ago

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Winchesters and Angels (and God)

I’m gonna apologize in advance for the absolute trainwreck that is this fic. @malvenue and I spent 3 hours yesterday morning texting each other this mess and I decided I had to turn it into a fic and inflict it on the rest of you. So, here’s some Destiel and Sabriel crack. Enjoy!

Gabriel popped into the bunker and found Sam sitting at one of the tables in the library. He sat down in the chair across from him.

“Hey, Sammy. Did you know I have PTSD?” He couldn’t hide the shit eating grin on his face, but it didn’t matter because, without looking up from the book he was reading, Sam said,

“Don’t we all.” Gabriel’s face fell.

“Oh. Are you okay? Do you wanna talk about it? Do you need a hug?” He grinned again. “I could probably cure it with some CBT.” That got Sam to look up.

“Cognitive behavioral therapy?”

“Cock and ball torture.” Sam coughed.

“I’M NOT EVEN INTO THAT, GABE!”

“I’m just saying things until you say yes to something.”

“JUST GIVE ME A HUG YOU FREAK!”

“Oh. Okay, sure, we can do that.” Gabriel stood up and wrapped himself around Sam. “So, you want me to suck you off now or--.”

“GABE, I SWEAR TO GOD!”

“You called?” Jack asked, causing both of them to jump. Gabriel was grinning again.

“Yeah, I was just telling Sammy that--.”

“GABRIEL, HE IS THREE!” Across the room, Dean leaned closer to Cas and said,

“How come you know exactly what I want, but Gabe can’t figure Sammy out?”

“He didn’t get to fondle Sam’s soul like I did with yours,” Cas responded matter of factly. Dean choked.

“YOU WHAT!?”

“I just hugged your soul with my whole true form to protect it from Hell’s flames and demons. I did try to just grip your shoulder but I was afraid I’d drop you.”

“CAN EVERYONE PLEASE LEAVE!?” Sam shouted. Dean stood up and took Cas’s hand, leading him out of the room.

“Did you really scream that loudly when you saved me that you woke Anna up from her angel coma?”

“I was very happy. You were so pretty. You still are butIi never got to cuddle a human soul before and the first one was the most beautiful one.” Dean felt a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Yeah, okay, buddy.”

“I can still hear you!” Sam complained. “Go away! Gabe, stop touching me!”

“Sammy, you make it sound bad. I was just gently caressing your cheek.”

“MY ASSCHEEK!”

“Still a cheek!”

“How did this become my life?” Jack tilted his head, much like Cas.

“Is that something norm--.” Cas pulled away from Dean’s grip and stormed back into the library.

“No, son, cover your eyes.”

“GABE, I TOLD YOU, HE’S THREE!” Sam cried.

“Sammy, just give the guy a chance,” Dean said. “Also, he was two when he wanted to fuck that crazy chick on that one case.”

“Yeah, you still didn’t tell me about se--.”

“THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!” Sam was sounding more and more distressed by the second. Gabriel grinned.

“I can teach you about sex! Come on, Jack!”

“Gabriel, I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Cas said.

“Babe, relax, it can’t be that bad.”

“Dean, I’ve seen Gabriel do some very disturbing things involving various plastic objects and--.”

“ENOUGH!” Sam snapped. “Jack, I’ll tell you, okay? Just please stop guys.” Gabriel smirked.

“Come on Sam! I thought you liked when I--.”

“STOP!” Dean grinned.

“Wow, Sammy, you really--.”

“NO!” Jack looked between all of them, utter confusion written all over his face.

“You totally do!” Dean crowed. San narrowed his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Well have you told Cas about that time in the backseat of the Impala?” Dean stopped laughing immediately.

“Do. Not.”

“I am a celestial being, Sam, and I used to watch over Dean almost all the time,” Cas said and Dean’s eyes widened. “Which time are you referring to?” Sam mirrored Dean’s expression.

“I WAS MORE THAN ONCE?”

“Well, it was--.”

“CAS, NO!” Dean interrupted. “Don’t. And what do you mean almost all the time?” Cas shrugged.

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“What could happen to me during sex, Cas?”

“Heart failure? Muscle cramps?” Dean had to admit, that was a point.

“Okay, but you didn’t have to watch.”

“I didn’t want you with Anna.”

“CAS!” Cas looked at him and Dean’s heart almost broke at the pain in his eyes.

“That was very painful for me.” Dean swallowed.

“Fuck, Cas, I--. You know I love you, right? I didn't realize back then. I'm so sorry. I'm a complete asshole. I promise I love you.” Cas smiled softly.

“It’s okay, Dean, I know.”

“I am GOING TO BE SICK!” Sam said. Gabriel pretended to wipe his eyes with a tissue from a box he pulled out of nowhere.

“My little brother has grown up so much.” Jack spoke up, clearly still confused.

“Dean and Cas weren’t always together?” Everyone turned to look at him. Dean frowned slightly.

“Why would you think we were?”

“BECAUSE WE ALL HAVE EYES!” Sam yelled. “Oh, here we go again. YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE SO SNEAKY DIDN’T YOU DEAN? With all the longing looks and careful touches and mixtapes and--.”

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean muttered.

“AND THE PRAYERS, OH MY GOD!”

“Yes, Sam?” Jack said. “I’m right here. Anyway I could always see Cas’s wings around Dean when they were in the same room.”

“WHAT?” Dean turned to Cas, who only shrugged.

“It’s not my fault you can’t see my true form. I had to make sure you were comfortable and safe.”

“Even now?” Jack asked. Sam turned to Gabriel.

“Keep your wings away from me, Gabe.”

“Actually, he--,” Jack started.

“OF COURSE, SAMMY!” Gabriel interrupted loudly.

“Someone please just kill me,” Sam said. “Just end this.”

“Sammy, come on a little wing petting never killed anyone,” Dean said.

“I WISH IT DID!”

“If you died, you’d go to Heaven,” Jack stated.

“No one really dies in this family anyway,” Dean pointed out.

“Fuck you,” Sam grumbled.

“Me?” Gabriel asked.

“You know what?” Sam snapped. “If it shuts you up, YES!” Gabriel grinned.

“FUCK YEAH, I WIN!”

“Sound proof your damn room, Sammy,” Dean said.

“Gabriel can do that for him like I did for--.”

“CAS!” Cas frowned.

“What? You said “Don’t break the walls with your angel voice and don’t let Sam hear me wh--.”

“CAS, DAMMIT!” Sam smirked

“You whimper? Awe, Dean, that’s kinda sweet.”

“That’s NOT what he was going to say. Right, Cas?” Dean shot Cas a desperate look.

“No. Of course not. He, uh, whines?” Dean hung his head.

“On second thought, kill me, too.”

“Sorry, Dean, no one really dies in this family,” Sam said with a grin. “Come on, Gabe.” Gabriel’s eyes glowed a little as he followed Sam down the hall. Jack looked at Dean and Cas.

“So…it’s all okay here?”

“Of course, Jack, why do you ask?” Cas asked.

“You all call me at least 56 times every day,” Jack said. Cas chuckled.

“Abuse of human language.”

“Cas, I cannot BELIEVE--,” Dean started.

“Sounds like conflict,” Jack said. “Bye, Dad!” He waved at Cas and disappeared.

“Dean, why are you upset?

“YOU DON’T TELL PEOPLE, ESPECIALLY NOT SAM, WHAT I DO DURING SEX! Unless it’s something absolutely awesome.”

“But you sound beautiful to me so that must mean that it’s awesome too.”

“Buddy…” Dean could feel himself blushing again. “Just don’t talk about that with anyone else, okay?” Cas paused a little too long.

“Okay.”

“WHO ELSE DID YOU TELL?”

“No one, I just…” Cas faltered.

“WHAT?” Dean watched a few tears slip down Cas’s cheeks.

“You’re just so loving that you sometimes can’t speak so you whimper and it’s just…it’s so beautiful, Dean.” Before Dean could even begin to process how to respond to that, Sam shouted from across the bunker,

“GABE, DON’T DO THAT!” Dean paled.

“Cas, please soundproof their room.”

“GABE, HOLY FUCK!” That was followed by some incomprehensible yelling.

“CAS, NOW!” Cas frowned slightly.

“They’re not in a room.”

“WHAT?”

“They’re…in the hallway.”

“SAMMY, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS IF YOU DON’T GO THE FUCK TO YOUR DAMN ROOM!” Dean yelled. Across the bunker, Sam looked at Gabriel.

“Does he think we're having sex?”

“I mean, I could make you sound like that if you let me,” Gabriel said with a wink.

“GABE NO!”

“SAMMY, I SWEAR TO GOD!” Dean shouted and Sam dragged Gabriel back to the library. Jack popped up in the middle of the room.

“I just left, what now?

“Abuse of language, it’s okay,” Cas said. “We’ll say Jack if we need you, okay?”

“Oh, okay.” Jack disappeared again.

“Your kid takes things too literally doesn’t he?” Gabriel said.

“He did say Cas is his dad first thing,” Sam agreed. Dean studied his brother.

“Sammy, the FUCK were you yelling about? Are you hurt or something?”

“I can’t seem to find any injury,” Cas said. “I just get the sense that--.” Sam cleared his throat loudly.

“No, Cas, please continue,” Dean said.

“No, actually, I should go to my--,” Sam tried to deflect.

“Sam seems to be extremely aroused,” Cas said.

“I’m an angel, Sammy, I told you I can tell,” Gabriel said. Dean smirked.

“Awe, Sammy, that’s kinda sweet.”

“GABE, CAN YOU WAIT TILL WE GET TO MY ROOM THEN?”

“I didn’t do anything, Sam,” Gabriel said with a wink

“Gabriel did you just use your grace to--.”

“Shut UP, DEAN!” Sam yelled as Dean started laughing.

“Gabriel, it’s actually very nice of Sam to let you do that because Dean doe--.” Dean stopped laughing abruptly.

“CAS!”

“What?”

“What did we just talk about?”

“This wasn’t related to your s-.”

“NO TALK ABOUT ANYTHING WE DO ALONE, OKAY!”

“Come on, Dean, a little grace never killed anyone,” Sam teased.

“Sam, I will kick your ass.”

“Don’t bruise it,” Gabriel said. “He has a nice ass.”

“Gabe, I swear to--,” Sam started

“Stop calling Jack,” Cas said.

“You know, Gabe, I think Sammy here would love you to bruise him a little.”

“DEAN!” Dean grinned.

“And I’m sure he would absolutely melt if you bite him a bit too.”

“DEAN, I WILL MURDER YOU!”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” Gabriel pointed out.

“No you won’t, Sam,” Cas said.

“Dean, continue, I’m memorizing,” Gabriel said.

“If I remember correctly, he also really loves when people lick his-.”

“DEAN WEARS PANTIES!” Sam yelled. Dean rolled his eyes. That wasn’t much of a secret anymore. So, of course, Cas had to open his mouth.

“Well, actually--.”

“CAS!”

“What now?”

“No talk about my underwe--.”

“No, no, Cas, please continue,” Sam interrupted.

“Since you didn’t let Dean finish I’ll just lick all of Sam till I figure out what he wanted to say,” Gabriel said.

“NO ONE IS LICKING ME!”

“Sam is aroused again,” Cas commented.

“CAS!” Sam whined.

“Why is everyone yelling at me?”

“Not me little bro. Not me,” Gabriel said.

“Yeah, but you never yell,” Dean pointed out.

“Yes, I do,” Cas said.

“NOT YOU, CAS!”

“I bet Sammy could make me scream,” Gabriel said with a wink.

“Just make sure to protect the room,” Cas said. “You will break everything if you--.”

“If you break ANYTHING with you weird angel shit I SWEAR TO--.”

“Don’t call Jack. Please,” Cas begged. “He doesn’t like conflicts.”

“I wonder where he gets it from,” Dean teased. Cas tilted his head.

“Me, of course.” Dean just shook his head with a fond smile. They stared at each other and Dean could feel himself getting lost in the endless sea of blue.

“Here we go again,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I thought they’d stop doing that once they--.”

“Well, no such luck apparently.” Gabriel shrugged.

“Guess eye fucking is easier.”

“GABE!”

“I am not having any kind of intercourse with my eyes,” Cas said, breaking eye contact. “I just stare deep into Dean’s soul and--.”

“Cas, please, not now,” Dean said, blushing furiously. Cas squinted at him.

“You know what, Dean? Why don’t you just tell me when I’m allowed to speak.”

“Wow, Dean, I knew you were an asshole but really?” Sam said. Dean ignored his brother.

“Wait, no, Cas I’m sorry.” Cas just stared at him, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Damn, bro, you really fucked up,” Sam said.

“Sam, shut up! Cas, look, let’s just go to our room and--.”

“‘Our room’. Wow, congrats guys!”

“Sam, SHUT UP!”

“Sammy, does that mean your room is our room now?” Gabriel asked.

“No, Gabe! We are not a couple!” Gabriel mirrored Cas’s expression.

“Damn, bro, you really fucked up,” Dean smirked. Sam rolled his eyes.

“That won’t work on me, Gabe. We are not a couple.” Gabriel shed a single tear. “Not gonna work. You’re not my type.” Gabriel turned to his brother.

“Cassie, come on! How do you do it?”

“Well, you’re at the beginning, so you could try showing the shadow of your wings and breaking some glass. Maybe let him stab you.”

“THAT WAS NOT FLIRTING!” Dean insisted

“Of course it was,” Cas said.

“I was trying to kill you!

“Well, I was trying to prove I was strong because I know you want to be protec--.”

“CAS!”

“Right. I forgot I’m not allowed to talk unless you tell me to.”

“Awe, Dean, are you a little spoon?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Cas answered.

“CAS!”

“So, you don’t want to be anymore?” Cas asked. Dean closed his eyes for a moment.

“Cas, please stop.”

“Sammy, you can be whatever spoon you want,” Gabriel said.

“Still not into you.”

“I bet Sammy’s a big spoon because he’s a control freak,” Dean said.

“Also, even Cas said you’re aroused when I talk to you so you’re lying, Sammy,” Gabriel pointed out. He turned to Dean. “Also, Dean, that’s sizest. I can be a big spoon!”

“Gabriel’s true form is quite large indeed,” Cas said.

“It’s not sizest! Cas is shorter than me!”

“SO YOU ADMIT IT!” Sam yelled.

“YEAH, I ADMIT THAT YOU’RE A LITTLE BITCH!” Dean shot back.

“Sam is not a female dog,” Cas said. Dean sighed.

“Cas, don’t do that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to shut up.”

“The only one who should shut up is SAM!”

“Now listen here you jerk--.”

“Oh, Sammy, you’re so cute when you’re angry,” Gabriel said.

“Gabriel, I swear I will fucking gag you.”

“Oh, PLEASE DO!” Sam groaned

“Sam, I don’t think you’re gonna win here,” Dean said.

“Sam is aroused again,” Cas stated. Dean grinned.

“Cas, did I tell you how much I love to hear you speak?” He turned to Gabe. “I told you Sam is a control freak.”

“I have no problem with that.”

“You can all go straight to hell,” Sam muttered.

“We’ve all been there, Sam,” everyone else said at once.

“Hey, Sammy, what were you planning on gagging me with?” Gabriel asked.

“Keep talking and you’ll find out,” Sam threatened.

“If I can choose, please gag me with your--.”

“Gross, Gabe!” Dean complained.

“But, Dean--,” Cas started.

“CAS, NO!”

“One moment I’m not allowed to talk, then you love it when I speak. Make up your mind please.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know what? I'm done with this. I'm going to bed.” He turned to leave. Cas, you’re coming with.”

“It’s 4:30 in the afternoon,” Sam said.

“Never said we were gonna sleep, Sammy,” Dean said with a grin and a wink. Cas’s eyes started glowing a little. Dean grabbed his arm. “Come on, buddy.” They left the room and Gabriel looked at Sam.

“So, big guy, how much do I have to talk to get to choke on your--.” Sam grabbed Gabriel’s arm.

“COME ON THEN!” Gabriel grinned.

“Yay, I win!”

#Destiel #Sabriel #crack fic #Jack is God

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bel0vedmendes · 6 years ago

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Inevitable : AU Part 1

BrothersFriend!Shawn x Reader

Words: 3,510

Warnings: Language, drinking, smoking

Description: When Jason left, he made Shawn (his best friend) promise to keep a watchful eye on Y/N. He swears that we will. Along with the help of Brian and Kyle, he keeps his promise. As Y/n gets older the dynamic of their relationship begins to change. Will they figure out what they mean to each other or will Shawn always see her as his best friend’s little sister?

A/N: I’ve been writing this for awhile now, and I finally have an ending that I'm obsessed with. This is an AU so Shawn is not a Rockstar. I hope you like it! Please let me know your thoughts!

Many things in life are inevitable. Falling in love is one of those inevitable things, and unfortunately, falling out of love is too. I remember the day they told us like it was yesterday. After years of therapy and unresolved arguments my mom and dad, thankfully, decided to call it quits. They sat my brother, Jason, and I down at our kitchen table and we had to pretend like we didn’t already know what was going to happen. Everything was fine until they told us that my mom was moving back to her hometown and my dad was staying here for work. My brother and I just stared at them like they were pranking us. I was 13 almost 14 and my brother was 16. We sat there in shock while they explained what was going to happen. The only decision they gave us to make was who would stay with who. Jason and I decided that he would go with mom since he and dad never had the best relationship. Neither of us did really, but it was easier for me and dad to get along.

That night Jason had his three best friends over to tell them the bad news. Shawn, Brian, Kyle and Jason had been best friends for as long as I could remember. They were all extremely close and spent every second they could together. I had become rather close to all of them too since our mom would make Jason bring me every where he went. I knew it annoyed him but I always tried my best to be as invisible as possible. That night Jason asked me if I wanted to play video games with him and his friends, and I agreed. We stared at the screen playing Mario Cart until our eyes burned. It was a quiet night full of unanswered questions. I remember Kyle saying repeatedly that it ‘fucking sucked’ that Jason was moving. Jason always made me swear not to snitch on his friends for their bad language, it really didn’t phase me. I thought it was funny when they would cuss to make them look cooler. Brian kept swearing that they would visit each other, and it would be fine, and they could always go to college together. Shawn was fairly quiet about everything, probably because he was the most upset. I think it was also because he knew that it wouldn’t be as easy as everyone was making it seem to be. Shawn was Jason’s best friend; they had been close since kindergarten when his family lived next door to us. They were inseparable.

The part of that night that I still think about often was the conversation that we all had after I had lost Mario Cart for the millionth time. They were all so competitive, I could never win anything when I played against them. I complained about being the youngest and how they should take it easy on me. Jason responded with “If we took it easy on you, you wouldn’t try as hard.” Which was true, I tried my hardest to beat them and one day I knew I would. Then Jason looked at me and I think that was the first time he realized that it wouldn’t be like this anymore. He wouldn’t be able to help me through my teenage years. Sure, he would be a call away and I’d see him maybe a few times a month, but it was going to be so different. He wouldn’t be a room away if I needed him. He instantly walked over and wrapped his arms tight around me. Tears slowly streaming down our faces as we realize how much this is going to change our relationship.

Brian and Kyle excuse themselves from room but Shawn stayed. He stayed and listened to my brother as he made me promise him, that I would call him every day. I would tell him everything that was happening in my life, and that I wouldn’t keep any secrets from him. I cried and I promised him that I would, but he needed to do the same. Finally, he took his hands and held my shoulders, wiping my tear stained face before smiling one of his infamous Jason smiles. I smiled back, knowing that everything would be fine because Jason would make sure it was. He told me to head upstairs and preheat the oven so that we could make a pizza. On my way up I stopped when I heard my name being exchanged between Jason and Shawn.

“Shawn, you have to promise me. I need someone to watch over her. I hate that I can’t be here. Until I can come back home you have to make sure she’s okay, promise me?”

“I promise, Jay, I’ll take care of her.”

Still to this day, neither of them know I heard that conversation. I’m 17 almost 18 now, and It’s been such an insane almost 4 years since my brother and my mom moved away. So many things have changed. The first year, I would visit mom and Jay a lot, Jason would visit a lot too. We would still talk every day on the phone if we could. The second year my dad started dating someone new. She is god awful, so I did a lot of visiting but Jason dreaded coming to visit Dad. I couldn’t blame him. He and his friends went on a road trip together, and he told them that he was going into the Army. I was pretty pissed that he told them before me, but I got over it eventually. The third year Jason was away for basic training for a majority of the year. I got to see him maybe 5 times the entire year, he would call me every now and then to make sure everything was okay. I stupidly confessed to him that my boyfriend at the time had been caught flirting with another girl. I tried to brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but Jason knew better and sent in reinforcements. Shawn, Brian, Kyle all showed up at the house and took me on a date. I pretended the entire time like I was annoyed, and I didn’t need the attention, but I think deep down they knew I did. That happened a lot through the years. They would give me rides, help me with homework, take me on adventures. They would take me and my friends to the movies and watch over us. My friends would all gush and flirt with them. They would act annoyed but secretly they loved it. Shawn hated it, he would always tell me that I deserved better when it came to the boys I dated and the friends I picked. They didn’t lie to Jay when they said they would watch out for me; they were like my brothers.

Over the years we all got extremely close. They still took the older brother role seriously, but they all definitely loosened up around me. They were all at least 2 years older than me, so they really stepped up when it was time for me to make any hard life decisions. My dad couldn’t care less about what I did with my life, and to be honest I couldn’t wait to move out. The boys knew that was my goal and they supported me one hundred percent, because they knew that’s what Jason would want. That brings us to today.

Currently standing outside of my dad’s house waiting for Shawn to pick me up. My list of potential apartments tight in my hand. Shawn insisted on taking me, kept saying ‘Ill know what to look for.’ I never knew when something was Jason asking the boys to help or when they were doing it on their own. Either way, I knew they didn’t mind, and it was something they enjoyed doing so I let it be.

He finally arrived, pulling his jeep behind my beat-up Honda Civic. I rushed over to passenger side hoping in, hopeful that today would be the start to a new adventure. I couldn’t wait to move out and not have to worry about my dad or his horrible fiancé and their judgmental attitudes.

“You ready for this?” Shawn asks with his hand on my seat turning his body as he reverses out of the driveway.

“So, fucking ready.” I sing, not needing to explain why because he already knows.

He punches in the address of the first apartment and we head on our way. I link my phone to the Bluetooth without asking, and I start to play some of the new music I’ve recently been loving. The first one being Talk by Khalid. I loved when Shawn drove me because he genuinely loved when I would play music in the car. He would giggle when I would try harmonizing with the song, eventually joining in. I would always stop singing because I loved hearing his voice.

We eventually arrived at the first apartment complex, the landlord meeting us to let us in. I was instantly turned off by the group of boys standing outside smoking cigarettes. I watched Shawn’s jaw clench as they cat called me as we walked by. Was it jealousy or was he being protective? Part of me enjoyed thinking that he was jealous, and he didn’t like men looking at me like that. The other part of me figured it was he was just being his normal protective self.

We walked into the apartment instantly being choked by the overwhelming smell of cigarettes and mildew. I tried to keep my composure, but honestly, I was already over this place. I glanced over at Shawn to see if he was thinking the same way as me, but his poker face was intense. I had no clue, maybe this apartment was okay, and I was being over dramatic. I started to breath through my mouth so the smell wouldn’t distract me. It was only a smell after all, nothing a candle couldn’t fix. Well… maybe a little bit more than a candle. The landlord walked us through the rooms, we smiled and nodded as he talked about the ‘great qualities’ of the apartment. He finally left us alone so we could talk about it on our own. Shawn and I walk into the bedroom, his finger running over the fresh dry wall that was placed over the multiple holes that the previous tenant had left.

“So… It’s kinda…nice?” my voice squeaks at the end, quietly trying to sound somewhat optimistic.

“y/n, this place is a fucking dump,” He says scrunching his nose up, obviously a side effect of the horrid odor.

“Oh, thank god. I thought maybe I was being too much of a diva,” I chuckle as I start to head for the door as he follows me.

“No, there is no way in hell you’re living here,” He places a hand on my lower back as we walk out of the apartment and eventually through the group of inappropriate boys. I still didn’t know if it was an act of jealousy or protectiveness, but I did know that I liked the feeling of whatever it was.

We made our way to the next apartment, optimistic that it would be better than the last. As soon as we entered, we were amazed that the quality had actually gone down, compared to the previous place. The carpet was a disaster, covered in stains of all different colors. The look Shawn gave me when the landlord mentioned a ‘slight ant infestation’ made me lose it. We instantly dismissed ourselves, knowing that is was not the home for me. We made our way back to his jeep. He slowly turns his head with his eyebrows raised high.

“y/n where the hell did you find these postings?” He says huffing, this was stressing him out more than it was me.

“This is all I can afford without a roommate, Shawn. I don’t know what to tell you.” I roll my eyes as I punch in the address of the next place. Which was hysterically worse than both of the previous ones combined. We stepped in and Shawn instantly thanked the landlord and told him we weren’t interested. I had to laugh at how uptight he was being. It was adorable, really.

We get in the car, and I give him a few minutes to gather his thoughts.

“Please tell me the last one is better than this. Please.” He begs massaging the area between his eyes.

“It’s definitely better, I’ve seen pictures. The only thing is that I would be someone’s roommate.” I tell him without making eye contact unsure of how he would respond.

“Okay, that might work. I think you could use a roommate anyway.”

We pull up to the last apartment complex. The building was beautiful. There were flowers all along the edge of the building and a beautiful fountain in a courtyard to the side. I smiled at Shawn knowing that he was as optimistic as I was about this place.

We find the room and gently knock. A tall blonde-haired boy answers the door. He looked to be about 25, piercing blue eyes, and dimples so deep I could swim in them. I stuttered for a moment, struggling to get my words out. A jab in my side pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Uhm, Hi… I was supposed to meet Sam here; we had talked about the room she had available online?” I question the gorgeous man in front of me.

“Yeah, that’s me babe. Y/n, right?” He smiles the most beautiful smile, making me giggle like a little girl.

“Oh, oh my god. I’m so sorry. I thought…” I start to explain but he cuts me off by taking my hand and pulling me inside.

“All good, I guess I never really specified.” He says smirking at me as he looks me up and down slowly. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Then his gaze switches over to an extremely annoyed Shawn. Fuck, he does not look happy.

Sam walks over to Shawn putting his hand out to shake it “Boyfriend?”

“Shawn.” He says bluntly, taking Sam’s hand tight into his.

“Not my boyfriend, a friend.” I interject wondering why Shawn so obviously avoided answering the question.

Sam’s smile widens as he looks back at me.

“Let me show you the room then, baby doll.” He says as his hand finds the place on my lower back where Shawn’s was earlier today. I hear Shawn’s groan as he watches Sam walk me to the bedroom. The room was beautiful, it had beautiful grey hard wood floors, with a huge balcony and its own private bathroom.

“That bathroom is pretty small, you’re more than welcome to use mine if you want.” Sam says with a wink, causing my stomach to turn.

“Okay! I think that’s all we need to see!” Shawn interjects, taking my hand in his as he pulls me towards the front door.

“The room is gorgeous! Ill be messaging you soon!” I yell out with a smile, still being tugged out the door, by the bouncy haired brunette.

“Looking forward to it.” Sam says sending a wink, as the door closes behind me. Shawn still pulling me towards the Jeep, not saying a word but radiating anger… or jealousy? Once again, I had no fucking clue.

We get into the car, and I can practically feel the heat coming from Shawn.

“I loved that room,” I say quietly still unsure of why he was acting this way, so I decided to play dumb. He slowly turned to me. Squinting his eyes at me as If I should understand what was going through his head. I press my lips into a tight line raising my eyebrows. Two can play this game.

“Yes, it was pretty, but you are not rooming with that boy.” He says dominantly as he starts to pull away.

“Uhm okay… first thing he was not a boy. Second thing, you don’t get to decide what I do.” I defend as my arms cross over the front of my chest.

“Yeah, we’ll see what Jason has to say about that.” He mutters. Earning a loud scoff from me.

“Jason is NOT my father. Neither are you.” I snap turning away from him quickly.

“We both know that Jason was more of a father figure than your actual dad, so cut the shit.”

I took a deep breath deciding not to respond because he was right. He knew he was. Jason’s opinion always meant more to me than my father’s did. Hell, Shawn’s even meant more than my dads did. That still didn’t make was he was saying fair.

We drove about 20 minutes until we pulled in a familiar driveway. Brian and Kyle were renting a house that was just 5 minutes away from campus. The campus that I would be attending next fall. Shawn had an apartment a little outside the city, he cherished his alone time unlike the other two boys. We walked inside the front door; it was unlocked like it usually was. They always had people coming in and out of the house. Brian and Kyle were sitting in front of their huge flat screen tv, yelling at the screen while they violently smashed the buttons on their controllers. They didn’t even bother looking at the two people that had just walked into their house. Shawn and I made our way to the kitchen where he pulled out two bottled waters, handing one to me. Finally, the other two boys came into the kitchen to greet us, making the situation a little less awkward.

Brian walked over to me kissing me on the cheek as he usually did, Kyle grabbing the rubber band on my wrist and pulling to back so it would slap me on the wrist. I instantly smacked him on the chest as he laughed.

“What are you two doing here?” Brian questioned as he pulled a beer out from the fridge. Shawn giving him a look of ‘its 4 pm dude’.

“We were looking at apartments for y/n, but we didn’t find any.” Shawn replied

“We were not looking,” I quip, drawing out the e in we, “I happened to find a beautiful apartment, with a roommate.” I raise my eyebrows at Shawn specifically, letting him know I wasn’t over our conversation. Brian and Kyle both started to nod in approval at my statement, knowing how hard it can be to find a place at a great price.

“Yeah, the roommate happens to be a dude in his mid-twenties who couldn’t stop checking you out,” Shawn scoffs leaning back against the counter.

“Oh, hell no, Jason would kill us if we let that happen,” Brian agrees with Shawn, causing him to smirk in my direction.

“Exactly what I said,” Shawn challenged, waiting for me to disagree.

“Fine! What the hell am I supposed to do then. I need to find a place close to campus, and I need to get out of my dad’s house,” I complained as I started to rummage through the boy’s fridge for a snack, pushing beer and condiments out of the way to find two week old leftovers. How do they survive on their own?

“Why don’t you move in here?” Kyle asked out loud, causing everyone to pause and think before they responded.

“Honestly that’s not a horrible idea, we have an extra room,” Brian says looking at Shawn to see what he thought about the idea, something he did often. Always needed to check for approval. Shawn was slowly nodding, as the wheels in his head turned. I could tell he was thinking about the pros and cons of me living in the house and weighing the options. That’s why everyone around him relied on his opinion so much it was always well thought out.

“You realize this is a party house, right?” Shawn warned, immediately causing my eyes to roll back into my head. I walk over to him poking him in the chest.

“You realize I'm not a child, right?” I sass him, poking him in the chest with every word. His eyebrows raise and I hear him laugh under his breath. Finally raising both his hands up to signal a defeat. I knew he really wanted to say, ‘You’ll figure it out on your own.’ I appreciated him keeping the brotherly thought to himself.

“Hell yeah, lets get you moved in!” Kyle yells as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder taking me to the room I would be moving into. Shawn was right, this was going to be different for me. He knew I needed my private space, but I was ready for something knew. It was also reassuring that I would be living with two of the boys that would do anything for me.

____________________________________________________________

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes au #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes x reader

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loulougoingsolo · 5 years ago

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My thoughts on Rhett’s story

Rhett telling the story of his spiritual journey made me feel more than I thought was possible for me, and this post is my attempt to put my feelings to words. I don’t know if any of what I wrote under the break makes any sense, but if you’re interested, go ahead and click through. Just in case, TW: religion and TW: mental health, although I didn’t really go into anything specific.

And because my text is a bit of a mess, if it leaves you with thoughts or questions, I’m open for discussion. Right now I feel like there is a bouncy ball going randomly around in my brain, and I need to spend the rest of this day in trying to make it stop.

I spent most of my 60 minute therapy session yesterday talking about all the things Rhett’s story on Ear Biscuits made me feel and think. I’ve been in a bit of a loop all week, trying to figure out why I felt so much. I’ve never really been able to believe in a god or a higher power, yet hearing Rhett tell about how painful his process of losing faith was, made me feel his pain, and somehow my own, and it confused the heck out of me.

I planned to write a more comprehensive commentary post about this Ear Biscuit, but every time I’ve started, my emotions have taken over me, and I had to skip the original idea of including the links to the books Rhett mentions. Instead of being factual, logical and scientific about this, I’m just going to explain how I felt, why I felt it, and what I think about all this.

So, I’m not religious. Most times, everything outside of logic confuses me. I want to know facts, and base all my decisions on the real things, and that’s just the way I am. I have serious trust issues in my everyday life, but in a way, also when it comes to spirituality. I also have serious issues with maintaining control, and the thought of losing this control freaks me out – in small things and major, life-changing things. Losing control feels like someone suddenly pulls the rug from under my feet, and I fall from an airplane without a parachute. Or as if I was first sitting safely in a boat, but suddenly, I was dropped into the ocean in the middle of open water, with nothing to hold on to, and no solid ground beneath my feet. At this point, if you’ve listened to Rhett’s story, jumping from a boat to water is how he described the moment he realized he could no longer believe in the god he had believed in for his entire life.

Rhett’s religion was based on the bible, and on a complete trust in god and Jesus. His faith was what provided him security, happiness, way of living and a path to follow. He had everything figured out, and all he needed to do was follow this path. There is such security in knowing what you are supposed to do.

I wasn’t raised to believe in god. I believed, and still do, in science and knowledge. At around the same time as when Rhett decided to pursue a path as being a missionary, and saving the souls of non-believers, I was absolutely certain that I had a similar path all paved and ready. I was going to be a science-woman, I was studying environmental biology in the university, and was driven by my desire to save the world. I had found my passion for environmental work as a teenager, and everything in my life was directing me to this path.

Rhett had to really push himself over the years to be able to ignore his doubts. He wanted to believe, because his faith was the basis for his entire being. When he finally couldn’t erase all of his doubts, he suddenly had nothing to believe in – and even though he says multiple times he wasn’t traumatized by anything in the church, he most certainly experienced massive trauma when he had to let go of it all. He didn’t choose to lose faith, yet he did, and losing everything you believe in is traumatic.

Not believing in higher powers, and having all the trust issues I have, I’ve ever only been able to believe in myself. Too bad, it turned out around when I was 23, that I wasn’t quite as trustworthy as I believed myself to be. I’ve been socially awkward, anxious and a perfectionist for as long as I can remember, and because of my anxieties, I didn’t ever really get close to other people. I survived through high school and childhood mostly by being pretty smart and just clueless enough to actually realize if someone tried to bully me. I knew I never really had very good friends like the other kids, but I was an introvert, and perfectly happy on my own – and it was my fortune that I grew up in a small community, and went to school with the same kids from kindergarten to end of high school. Life was stable and safe. Too bad, it didn’t really prepare me for the big world, and when life got too complicated for me to handle, I lost faith in myself and was left with nothing.

I tried to be what I expected myself to be, and what I assumed my parents, the society, my high school teachers and everyone around me expected me to be. At 23, I couldn’t return to my university classes after the summer break, and I was in the deepest personal crisis I have ever been. I felt like a failure, and I felt I could never again face anyone I knew, because I had let them and myself down. I sought help, went to therapy, and at one point, realized that the path I assumed I would follow wasn’t for me. I had to tell my family I wouldn’t be going back to university. I had to accept that I couldn’t control all of my feelings with logic, and thus lost the foundation to my existence.

It took me quite a few years of therapy and rebuilding myself to get to where I’m at today. First, I found my joy of making art – something that the science life had almost successfully deleted from my life. I went to study jewellery making, and slowly started to believe in myself again – only to experience quite a few relapses along the way. Despite finding a new path in my life in doing art and making jewellery, I still had to come to grips with the fact that I was on the asexual spectrum, and bisexual, and I’m currently, with the help of my therapist and psychiatrist, figuring out if some of my lifelong problems might be based on being neurodiverse (I’ve been going to tests for this for a while now). All of this has forced me to accept that I can’t control my life quite as much as I’d like, and I’m still trying to find a balance between the logical and the emotional parts of what makes me, me. I feel so much more whole now than back 20 years ago, even though there are so many things I can’t know for sure.

Rhett had to rebuild his belief system, and re-evaluate what his core values in life were. He has gone through the painful process of telling his loved ones that he no longer believes the things they still believe, and he basically had to rebuild his marriage from a different perspective – and by the sounds of it, he and Jessie are now in a good place in their relationship.

What struck me most about listening to Rhett’s story is that despite him starting out as a devoted Christian, and me starting out as more than anything, a religiously scientific, somehow, in 40+ years, we’ve somehow come to many of the same conclusions, and despite the obvious differences, we have a lot in common. We both lost the foundation to our lives and had to rebuild ourselves on firmer ground.

I wouldn’t describe myself a hopeful agnostic, but I have to admit there are so many things in this universe I can’t fully comprehend, and even though I can’t believe in a higher power, I feel connected to everything in this world through nature. Thinking about the universe, I’ve understood that the human existence is such a tiny fraction of everything that sometimes it feels absurd how much time and effort our species has spent trying to explain it all. In the end, all religions are attempts to explain the things we don’t know for a fact, and what we believe is only the result of the culture we’ve grown up in. In the grand scheme of things, we are friggin’ small.

I need to end this (probably very incoherent) post before I get sucked into the loop again – but I also have to get this posted so I can get it out of my system. I think Rhett’s current philosophy of living his life the best way he can, and focusing on this one life he can be certain of instead of worrying too much about what happens after he’s dead, is a pretty good idea. In my own life, I’ll continue on my path of learning to accept myself with flaws and all, and instead of trying to fit into a specific box of any kind, I’ll focus on shaping my own kind of container. I still struggle with accepting that not everything can be controlled, but sometimes losing control can create something pretty amazing. I kind of lost the control of my emotions while listening to Rhett’s story, but after almost a week of processing everything his words brought to surface in me, I am grateful for him sharing his story. I’ve never felt more proud for being a Mythical Beast – being a part of this community has enrichened my life more than words can express.

#ear biscuits #Rhett's spiritual journey #ear biscuit 226 #my thoughts #tw: religion #tw: mental health #rhett and link

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ittakesrain · 5 years ago

Link

I’m hesitant to say this round is over. I won’t say that just yet. The remnants of unbearable fear are still with me, the trauma is still too recent.

Like, fuck. It was (I’ll use the past tense there) like 15 or so days of just. Well, if you’ve read my shit before you know what it was like. Or if you’re unlucky enough to suffer this sinister fucking disorder, you know. You don’t need me reminding you.

It always starts with the violent, aggressive, uncontrollable irritability. It has no actual cause and therefore no clear way to be diffused. It’s terrifying. I notice it in the car the most, driving. No matter who’s in front of me and no matter how they’re driving, I am angry. Intensely. White-hot rage is literally all I know or have ever known.

Then major depression. I noticed that when I was driving during that phase, I was angry as fuck still but literally to weary to respond with anger. It turned inward and tore me apart from the inside. It literally radiates off of me (like my anxiety does). My boyfriend always comments when he feels it radiating off of me.

Sidenote, I love that he senses/sees the changes that happen within me. They’re so sudden and for no reason, and they leave me feeling crazy (I already feel crazy like, generally, but I’m constantly questioning like “did that really just happen, did I really just sob hysterically for an hour?”).

After that (or along with it) comes anxiety. Fuck the fucking anxiety. Like, physical panic attack symptoms coupled with the racing thoughts, none of which I can fully latch onto, most of them scary, many of them about death. It’s just indescribable to not have a safe place in your brain. No amount of visualization or breathing can fix it. Not even having someone next to me speaking words of comfort. Not even a hug, and I love hugs.

I had family stuff all weekend, and my cousins were visiting from another state. And it was terrible because I spent one day holding back tears and hiding and then actually letting the tears just fuckin’ flow. I couldn’t even bring myself to make eye contact with anyone that day. Yesterday was a little better. I was mopey and uncomfortable and distracted and totally not myself.

Then, of course, I got home and was hysterical for a little over an hour. And not that I wanna put myself back in that terrible, terrible moment (or any of the MANY previous ones I’ve had), but I just remember so vividly wondering how I’d ever be able to function again. I couldn’t fathom how I’d ever been able to function before. There was no escape, nothing else but inward-pointing disgust and depression and fear. I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t stop dwelling on the fact that I’m only fucking 28 and that this thing is gonna live with me for the rest of my ever, and it might get worse and there’s no cure and like. Yeah, the cure thing. I explained to a friend of mine that “cure” is not a thing. Meds are not a cure, therapy is not a cure, doing all the right things is not a cure. They help. They give me better tools to survive the next round. But that’s all it is, most times: survival.

Sounds like a totally negative way to view it. And I feel no guilt for feeling that way. This. Shit. Sucks. I deserve a pity party after every fucking episode. At least grant me that (not that I need or am asking for permission).

Also, could timing possibly have been any worse? Ugh. I missed them all and they were physically here. The guilt I felt made things worse. The longing didn’t help either.

And I’m pretty sure none of them have ever seen me quite that bad. I was afraid I scared or upset them. But honestly, they are all so understanding and helpful and supportive, and the tremendous amount of love I feel for them is mind-blowing. I am so lucky, and I’m at a loss for words. I doubt that in a lifetime of writing and collecting words, I’ll ever get enough to explain how lucky I am or how much all that means to me.

And I have to mention my sister. And brother in law. Not only their actually support, but they were sending pictures of my amazing perfect adorable pure nephew. Immediately puts a smile on my face. Lots of people reminded me that he’s a big WHY. I want to be the aunt he deserves. And I know I can be, although I dread having to explain to my little guy why Aunt Laura loses it every now and again (but there’s a Dr Seuss book about feelings which is actually totally about bipolar disorder that I’m gonna use when he’s old enough). It sometimes hurt that I had to feel so shitty and have that someone be connected to how he was making me feel better. There was some measure of guilt that I can’t explain. But my god is his little face and his little rolls worth it.

Right. So I’m feeling better but not ready to call it being out of the woods yet. If nothing else I think it’ll be less dramatic from here on out, and I think it’ll be less rapid cycling. I think I’ll be at least somewhat less reactive to tiny insignificant bullshit going “wrong.”

Mind you, this is all sheer optimism and positivity. And I do not for a single second take for granted the fact that I am, at this moment, capable of thinking that way. It’s fleeting. All of this is fleeting. I mean, life can be looked at that way by everyone, which might be a helpful push toward “living in the moment.” But bipolar fleeting. Moods are fleeting. Flux is constant and its effects are omnipresent.

I’m just trying to find the silver lining. Wrap this up in a bow, as I tend to do. Actually no, as I need to do. And like, don’t we all? Part of what made this episode suck so bad was that I couldn’t write (even though I had some deadlines) and I couldn’t describe this bullshit in a way that I haven’t already. Each bought of insanity brings with it new…shit. And it is infuriating to not be able to explain it again. Also, I couldn’t move let alone form words. Couldn’t make eye contact let alone summon the energy to talk with other human beings.

I dunno. I guess for now I’m gonna focus (something I’m able to do again!) on finding the beauty in the spaces in between the chaos. Find a way to drill it so deep in my brain that I’ll inherently remember it (or just fucking FEEL it) next depression (well actually this was a mixed episode but whatever).

Until I get around to doing that, peace out, internet.

#bipolar #bipolar disorder #depression #manic #hypomanic #mixed episode #depressed #anxiety #finding meaning #mental illness #mental illness recovery #recovery #mood disorder #personal post #surviving #i got this #i can do it #growth

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lettersforyoulettersforme · 5 years ago

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March 25, 2020

I had a great therapy session yesterday. By “great,” I mean that it was very revealing and it’s always nice to have opening realizations. Even if they’re painful. Kind of like knowledge is power. And recognizing that I had this knowledge inside the entire time, it just took the gentle guidance of another to help me say it out loud.

We were talking about my parents and how they constantly disappoint me with their reactions to things I tell them. To use Stephanie’s words “your parents have missed the mark on a lot of big moments.” And they really fucking have. I think of all the times they failed me, they let me know, made me feel shitty, dropped the ball, didn’t give me what I deserved.

This all stemmed from two weeks ago when Stephanie said “I can tell that you’re suffering. You are suffering” and I keep thinking about that. And this idea of suffering and how I don’t really identify with that term. But why? Well, mainly because my parents (among others!) have always told me “You aren’t for want” and “you’re so lucky” and “you have things that no one else has, you have everything you could ever ask for.” And I’m not debating that. But what Stephanie so kindly pointed out is that while my parents have given me every physical luxury I could have asked for and beyond, they have been emotionally neglectful. I haven’t felt heard, seen, listened to, validated, acknowledged, accepted, welcomed with open arms, things that are so vital to connect and love and family. I won’t say that I just didn’t have them, but it was rare for me to get them. So much so that it felt like I had to do something to deserve them, as if they weren’t just a part of being in the same family.

So there’s suffering in that way. And when I talk to Stephanie, I am my most vulnerable self, I acknowledge my deflections and my defense mechanisms (turns out humor is a big one for me. and while I do find it deeply ironic and dark that Dennis doesn’t know me, can’t help me, is incapable of listening and absorbing what I’m saying... there is some grief there.)

Grief. For not having a Dad who I respect or look up to. For having a mother who has a hard time speaking for herself or standing up for herself or seeing how terrible this Administration is. For being a product of her limited and close minded environment. I’m grieving over Dennis’ inability to see me, to love me in a real way. In a way that means something to me. I know that he thinks that he did a great job- I know that he doesn’t think he’s made major mistakes or if he does acknowledge those, there’s no dwelling in that. He doesn’t seem to comprehend how his action (and his inaction) have deeply wounded Charlotte and I. And Sally too. There’s a lot of accommodating of Dennis, and it’s just the nature of the family system. It sucks because I’ve had substantial distance from it since age 14, so I can see it in a way that my Mom can’t. And there’s grief that I leave her behind. I spent years trying to get her away, to save and protect her from Dennis. But she didn’t want to be saved. And now she’ll spend the rest of her life caring for him, never knowing how else to be loved, not having what she deserves.

Which is tough because Dennis showed me for years that I didn’t deserve more than a steak dinner, than conversations around politics and achievements, that I could only share my successes with him, that I wasn’t allowed to fail, to be emotional, to be scared or vulnerable. Even now, he has a hard time letting me make my own choices without commenting on them. No, Dad, I don’t want your opinion about wine, I’ve been picking out my own wine for years and I’ve done just fine. Stop mansplaining sulfuric wine palettes to me, I already know all the fuck about it.

I told Stephanie about the time my Dad took me and Kevin out to dinner. This steak house. And how Dennis and Kevin got along SO well, eerily well, two peas in a pod. I remember going to the bathroom, calling Hayley and saying “it’s going amazingly. I don’t even need to be here.”

And months later, at my senior recital, my Dad asking “Where is Kevin? I like Kevin.” Never realizing how terrible he was. Never seeing that himself at dinner or months later. After me telling him. I felt then and I feel now that Dennis chose Kevin. I want to feel chosen, seen, loved. And as Stephanie said “It sounds like you want your Dad to protect you... and he didn’t”

And he didn’t. And he current does not. And probably never will on any or on a consistent basis. There’s grief and heartbreak in that. Both for myself, my mom and for his own toxic masculinity! I have empathy for how he never got enough attention growing up (apparently?) and how he needs to compensate for that now. I have empathy for the potential personality disorder he has (narcissism, anyone?).

It’s just this giant irony because I will have empathy and understanding for him. But he genuinely will never have it for me. The inequities and lack of reciprocation continue forever, people. And I think that’s just a shame.

We ended session with Stephanie asking if we could use next session to me sad, for me to stop trying to fix the situation and sum things up around this situation, if I could allow myself and this situation to remain open ended, unresolved.

I can try.

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number9robotic · 5 years ago

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9-24-19 Update

The long-awaited sequel to my 9-22-19 Update!

(plugging my newest pic as an artist tax)

Short version: I’m in physical danger right now.

Long version: My relationship with my parents are breaking down significantly because changes to plans of my living situation, my inability to cope with my depression, anxiety, and other mental/emotional compromises, and the resulting inability to do anything outside my comfort zone like finding a proper job/source of income or going to school.

As a result, my mom over the course of a few days have been physically threatening me (in public, no less) to send me back to my home in Vancouver while also shaming me for ruining their lives, and I feel legitimately unsafe being in my own home because I don’t know what they’re gonna do to me. All while this happens, my ability to stay motivated as a creator is really being tested.

Fuller version is below this line because I don’t wanna flood the feed and my account with walls of unpleasant text:

Please read my 9-22-19 Update for full context and backstory, there’s a lot of text and I don’t wanna retype it all.

1. THE REAL-LIFE CIRCUMSTANCES GOT WORSE

Yesterday as I was in my weekly therapy appointment, my parents had a renegotiation with each other about that plan I mentioned for my dad to come here and basically repeat the process of my legal anchoring to LA away from my home in Vancouver. Even though I responded with a (resigned) “sure, I’ll do it for you,” suddenly my dad made a conscience decision and told my mom that he changed his mind, because he’s really concerned about my mental well-being and the complete stagnation of my life because of my time here in LA.

This... didn’t go well with my mom, because as usual, this is ultimately about her, I guess. Later that evening, she took me to a Starbucks because she wanted to talk with me about something important, partially as a result of her indeed getting her travel permit document that day. She told me she also talked to her lawyer earlier that day, who said that as it stands, while the case isn’t expected to be finished until April 2020 at the earliest, I’ve technically done all I need to do to be declared a resident of the US, and my job is effectively done. Combined with my dad’s newfound desire to not keep me here any longer, I was told that I could return home.

buuuuuuuuuuuut

She was VERY clearly not happy about this. Despite being the one who decided to talk about this publicly, she had a very loud meltdown as she was explaining this and decided to erupt all of her frustrations not just with herself, but also of me.

To summarize her very long and confusing tirade, she started to outright force at me “JUST GO BACK TO VANCOUVER! GET A TICKET AND MOVE BACK TOMORROW! JUST GO!!!!”, yet was simultaneously also venting about how much damage this would do to HER and her career; that my lack of presence is a sign of failure on her part as a parent, because she hasn’t been able to get me to go to school or a “real” job or even learn how to drive. Keep this one little bit of info in mind.

A third argument she was trying to convince me of is that the return to Vancouver for me is only going to fuck ME up, because she doesn’t believe that me returning back to a comfortable place where I’m familiar with and am actually able to get around using public transit (which is so much better than LA, it’s not even a fair comparison) would be better for me and my personal health. She also said that Vancouver’s ability to help me with my mental health is so much worse than that of LA... which... that’s incredibly laughable on so many levels, the least of which is the fact that we spent a several-month assessment process to apply for job assistance because of my autism, only for the result to me to deem me and my autism diagnosis as invalid, but whatever, I guess...

I responded by telling how incredibly irrational she was acting in her hysterical state (again, in a very public area) with her a bunch about what I felt would help me through this, which I’ll talk about later. Reason not now is because she promptly forgot about it and this morning, SHE DID THE SAME THING AGAIN. This time she invited me to talk at a different Starbucks, asked me about my future, and then had ANOTHER very public meltdown screaming about her and my life problems, but this time it was at a time before McDonald’s stopped serving its breakfast menu.

Once again, she slammed me in my inability/refusal to try anything that would apparently help justify me being here in LA, me ruining her life no matter where I go in the world, and also threatening to send me away to Vancouver. This time I just had to outright leave the conversation because she was getting violent this time; I’m currently typing this in a library and she hasn’t found me yet. This isn’t an entirely new feeling, but currently I am legitimately scared for my future and physical safety.

2. EMOTIONAL HEALTH AND PARENTING

I (re-)explained to her that my problem with all of these personal development hurdles -- my inability to try anything where it feels like the failure of which will be utterly emotionally devastating -- is because I flat-out do not have the ability to deal with it. The entirety of grade school and post-secondary have collectively been the most emotionally devastating times of my life to me, I failed my written exam that’s the first step to get a driver’s licence 5 TIMES, and I have a smattering of emotional, communicative, mental, and physical hinderances preventing me from finding work.

And here’s why that affects me so much: my parents are not emotionally supportive. Mom and dad have outright admitted that due to “Chinese parenting”, “it’s just not my personality”, “I don’t know how to help reassure you” they don’t wish to help me with my emotional problems directly, often times finding it to be the job of others they can then shunt that duty off to, such as therapists, psychologists, counselors, or others. This ignores the fact that my meetings with them are weekly, whereas my greatest exposure to other people come from them, my supposed “loved ones”. I feel like I should be able to go to them for emotional strength. I do not, either because they aren’t capable of or just simply don’t want to be that.

Just to note how little they care about my feelings, I came out to them as nonbinary a few months ago, explained to them what that actually means, that I don’t like my pronouns or birth name at all, and asked for them to respect that. They have yet to comply despite me broadcasting my discomfort constantly, because they simply won’t “get it”.

Yknow... as someone who’s failed a lot in life... I can safely say that the resulting emotional wreckage isn’t fun.

The thing about being emotionally wrecked is that without any reliable source to go to like family or friends, my only solution is to just wait for my depression to pass... which if anyone knows anything about it, you’d know it’s super-unreliable and can take either a week or a month for me to feel better again, and is incredibly destructive. What I’ve recently realized is how much it utterly fucks with my perception of time and continuity -- depression cuts off my ability to feel anything significant or optimistic, including my ability to perceive a future worth looking up to. As a result, I feel like I’ve wasted A LOT of time in the last few years because nobody has been able to help me with that, at least in my actual time of need.

I’ve made this point to my parents many times throughout the year, and I’ve been desperately trying to communicate to them that the easiest solution to my mental trauma? To actually be there emotionally as loved ones; to help me through that potential sense of failure that I’m so afraid of experiencing again, and for them to comfort me as their child.

This request has pissed off my mom on multiple levels: the first I established already is that she’s constantly claiming she doesn’t know how to/isn’t capable of doing it because “it’s just not me” or “I’m not white mom” or some other crap. The second however is where things got super-confusing: she was also offended that I would ever think that she doesn’t support me on that level, and shared me a bunch of wechats to our extended family supporting my minor hobbies, even though they’ve been sucking really bad (again, please consider my patreon, this is a super-hard time to be motivated as a creator)

So I was like... “You ARE capable of being emotionally reassuring! I want to actually hear it myself!” because she almost never expresses positive emotions; it’s either complete ambivalence or negative frustration. She continued to express negative frustration at this, and at that point I just gave up because at this point it struck me that she just outright doesn’t want to help me with it because she felt like she can shunt the duty to someone else... even though she’s pissed about having to pay them therapy bills to do so. Ugh...

3. EVERYTHING BITES

To summarize: this entire breakdown and my future is emotionally fueled not about my needs like my dad wished, but about my mom’s, who believes that it is far more simple for me to be sent back to Vancouver at her blatant behest, and for me to just “get over” my depression and anxiety to do all the shit she expects me to do which she also believes me to be incapable of doing, than to just... be a caring parent who expresses positive feelings.

And during all of this, she’s also shaming me as a failure who ruins her life no matter what I do.

I am... so exhausted... and it’s super-difficult to stay motivated as a creator these days as a result of it. Fuck, I barely feel safe returning home either in LA or in Vancouver, because I know my mom hates me for it.

I still don’t have friends, and I still have depression and anxiety... and I can’t even ask my mom to be there for me in my time of emotional distress... thanks.

#vent #art #artist #need help #artists on tumblr

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smkkbert · 6 years ago

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A parent’s love

Summary: When the Queen Kids come home for a weekend with their parents and siblings, Millie tells Oliver something she has been keeping secret so far.

Rating: General Audience

Characters: Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen, Camille Olivia Queen

Felicity nipped at her coffee, watching Oliver through the kitchen window. When he had told her that he wanted to use the morning to chop wood for the winter, she had thought he had lost his mind overnight. The entire family was supposed to come together today and spend the weekend together. Using the morning to chop wood had sounded crazy.

Looking at him now, she was glad that she hadn’t been able to convince him to delay this task. Thanks to the tight-fitting shirt he wore, she could see his defined muscles even through the piece of clothing that covered his chest and his arms. His bicep pressed against the sleeves, and his abs were showing through the black cotton.

She had been married to Oliver for more than 25 years now. They had celebrated their silver wedding anniversary earlier this year. Despite the many years they had spent together, Felicity was far from being used to Oliver displaying his muscles and strength. She doubted that would change in the next 25 or more years and-

“Now I know why you didn’t hear me.”

Felicity flinched. Holding her hand to her heart, she turned around. Millie leaned against the kitchen island with her arms crossed in front of her chest and a scolding expression in her eyes. She almost looked like Donna when she had scolded Felicity for spending her summer vacations in front of the computer instead of in the sun. Felicity chuckled.

“Oh my God, Millie! You cannot scare me like that.”

“Mom, I called for you at least three times.” Millie shot a pointed look out of the window to her father. “You were just distracted which, as your daughter, I have to say is yuck. You have been married for more than twenty years. You could really turn down the sexual attraction to each other now. Normal people do that after a couple years of marriage, you know?”

“I am not sure your father and I count as normal people,” Felicity replied, “and I don’t think people should just stop feeling sexually attracted to each other or whatever just because they have been married for a while. Sex is important in any relationship.”

“Not when we are talking about my parents.”

For a split second, the conversation Felicity had had with Oliver earlier this week crossed her mind. They had talked about how weird it would be if Addie would graduate high school in a few months too. They would be all alone in this big house. Oliver’s only consolation for her was that at least they had the house all for themselves to have sex everywhere all day. Surprisingly, it had really been very consoling.

Felicity cleared her throat quickly. “Do you want coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Millie sat down on the kitchen island, crossing her legs. In the meantime, Felicity poured her daughter a mug of coffee.

“How’s college?” Felicity leaned against the kitchen counters at the opposite side of the room. “Are you satisfied with your classes and your dorm room?”

“It’s fine.” Millie nipped at her coffee. “Quiet but fine.”

Felicity chuckled. William, Emmy and Tommy had all said the same thing after their first weeks at college. The kids, just like she and Oliver, were used to a full and loud house. With five kids who sometimes also invited over friends, quiet had rarely ever been something to find at the Queens’ house.

“Am I the first one home?”

“Yes.” Felicity nodded. “William and Alicia are still in San Francisco to visit Samantha. Emmy is still in Gotham for a friend’s birthday and will back at lunchtime. Tommy should already be on his way. Addie wanted to be back already, but she called this morning. Apparently, the shooting has been going quite long yesterday. She needs a little more sleep before she can make her way home.”

“How is she doing?” Millie asked, frowning at her mother’s words. “Addie.”

Felicity sighed. She thought about her answer thoroughly, remembering the last conversations she had had with Addie. The last years with her youngest hadn’t been easy.

“She is better,” Felicity replied eventually. “She is still struggling with a lot of things, but she is going to therapy regularly.”

“She’s still doing shootings though.”

Felicity shrugged her shoulders. “Addie is turning eighteen in a few months. We can’t forbit her to go to any shootings or fashion shows anyway then. Finding this compromise – Addie goes to therapy and does what her therapist tells her and we allow her to continue modeling in return – sounded like the best choice. She is taking care of herself. She is taking care of her health, and she is taking care of school. That’s the most important right now.”

“You are still worried.”

“Of course I am,” Felicity said. “I am your mother. I am always worried about all of you.”

Millie smiled comfortingly. After a moment, she put her mug of coffee away and approached her mother. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug.

“You are a great mom,” Millie whispered. “You always have been, and you still are.”

Felicity sucked in a deep breath and hugged her daughter back. Measured at the results of her education, she wanted to believe that she had done a lot of things right. Her kids had all turned out quite great. They were kind and compassionate. They stood up for others that weren’t as lucky as they were. Most of the times, they were even happy though they struggled with that from time to time.

“Speaking of great parents.”

Millie pulled back a little to look at Felicity. There was nervousness in her eyes which made Felicity frown. She tugged some strands of her daughter’s dark hair behind her ear and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Millie said quickly and smiled though the nervousness was still shining through. “I have just been thinking a lot these past weeks, and I decided that it’s time to tell dad.”

Felicity smiled. “Are you ready for that?”

Millie nodded. “I think I am. I am nervous about it, but yes. It’s time to tell him.”

“You know that your dad loves you very much, right?” Felicity asked. “He’s not going to make you feel bad about what you feel and who you are because there is nothing bad about it. I don’t know what other people told you or who made you believe that it’s not okay, but there is nothing you have to be ashamed or worried about. Just like I do, he will support you. You know that, right?”

“I think I do, yes.” Millie shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know why I wasn’t ready to tell him before. I mean he never did anything to make me think that he wouldn’t support me, but I- I don’t know. By now, he will probably be madder with me for keeping it a secret from him for so long than for that.”

“It’s fine,” Felicity told her and squeezed her hands reassuringly. “He is not going to hold that against you either. He knows how tough it can be to overcome insecurities.”

Millie took in a deep breath and looked out of the window at where Oliver was still chopping wood. He was listening to music with his headphones, so he probably hadn’t heard that Millie was already home.

“Do you want to talk to him now?”

Looking back at her mother, Millie nodded quickly. “Yes, I think that’s better.”

Felicity squeezed her daughter’s hands reassuringly once more. When Millie just looked at her mother with held breath, Felicity perked up her eyebrows.

“Can you come with me?” Millie asked. “Please?”

Felicity smiled. “Yes, of course. Come on.”

Arm in arm, they strolled outside. Oscar, their Saint Bernard and Rottweiler crossbreed, heard them first. He came running from the other side of the garden, barking loudly, and jumped up at Millie repeatedly to lick her face.

“Oscar!” Millie chuckled and crouched down, so she could pet their dog. “Oh, I have missed you the most of all. How are you doing?”

“He’s been sleeping in your bed the past weeks,” Felicity replied. “The poor guy thinks that everyone will leave him.”

“Oh, no,” Millie told him and kissed his nose. “Did you really miss me that much, Oscar?”

Felicity chuckled since Oscar made almost purring sounds like he was answering to Millie’s question. He had rolled onto his back and let Millie pet his stomach. He kicked with his legs like a baby and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth. He had certainly missed Millie as much as Felicity had.

“Yea, Yea,” Oliver said with a sigh, pushing his headphones into the pocket of his pants. “Of course the dog is more important than your dad. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

With a smile on her lips, Millie got up and took the few steps to her dad. He wanted to hug her, but she took a quick step back.

“Ugh, Dad. You are sweaty.”

Oliver sighed dramatically. “You kids always find reasons not to let your old man hug you now. You are unbelievable. You have all been addicted to cuddles when you were kids. Those have been good times.”

Millie stepped forward and kissed her father’s stubbled cheek in apology. Oliver smiled happily. No matter how old he was or how old the kids were, he still loved them as much as he had when they had been his little girls and little boys.

“How’s college?” Oliver asked. “How are your classes? Are the journalism classes what you expected them to be?”

“It’s super interesting,” Millie replied with a wide smile. “It was definitely the right choice. Journalism is my thing, and it’s so much cooler than working in our newspaper project team at high school. I mean it feels a lot more meaningful.”

“Good.” Oliver smiled at her widely. “You know that I am happy when you are happy. How about I jump under the shower and switch into some less sweaty clothes, so we can sit down together and you tell us everything. We could-“

“Actually,” Millie interrupted him quickly, “I-“

Millie stopped and swallowed hard. Felicity could hear the nervousness back in her voice. Oscar seemed to notice it too because he sat down next to Millie and leaned against her leg like he wanted to comfort her. She stroked her fingertips over his head absentmindedly.

Oliver looked at Millie with perked up eyebrows, waiting for her to finish her sentence. She seemed to have lost her words though. Seeking help, she turned around to Felicity. With a smile, she stepped next to her daughter and put an arm around her.

“I think our daughter wants to tell you something.”

Oliver frowned slightly, but he looked at Millie with a patient smile. Felicity bit down on her bottom lip and shot Millie an encouraging look. She suspected how hard this was for her daughter, and she wished she could just ease the burden for her. She couldn’t do more than what she had done already, encouraging her to tell Oliver what she had been keeping secret and support her no matter what she decided to do.

It was how Felicity saw her role as a mother of her kids now that they weren’t exactly kids anymore. She could listen to them and maybe hand out an advice to them. After that, all she could do was accept whatever they decided to do and support them. The kids needed to make their own experience, good ones as well as bad ones.

“I met someone,” Millie said eventually, blurting it out quickly like she was ripping off a band-aid. “Matty.”

“Cool.” Oliver nodded with a smile though Felicity could see a little bit of confusion beneath his smile. “You know, just like your siblings’ boyfriends and girlfriends or any of your friends, everyone you are holding dear is always welcome here. You can invite Matty over for dinner today or tomorrow if you don’t consider meeting the entire family too crazy or too early.”

Millie smiled briefly before she shot another look at her mother. Felicity smiled encouragingly.

“Dad,” Millie said, taking in a deep breath. “Matty’s full name is Matilda Alejandra Santiago. She’s a girl, obviously, and… I think I’m in love with her. I mean we are together… kind of. It’s still new, so I don’t know where exactly this will be going. I just know that I have butterflies in my stomach whenever she is around, and my heart goes crazy every time she kisses me. I have never felt like that for anything, so, yeah, I guess I am in love with her.”

“That’s great, Millie. I am so happy for you,” Oliver told her with a smile. “Now, when can I get to know her? I can’t wait to meet the girl who stole my daughter’s heart.”

Millie stared at her father in disbelief for a moment. When she shot another look at Felicity, she could see the tears that were welling in her daughter’s eyes. Felicity just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. She hadn’t expected any other reaction from Oliver.

There was a long moment of quiet. Millie and Oliver just looked at each other. Neither of them said a word or moved though. Felicity watched them, unsure if her heart should break or feel warmed.

She knew how much Millie had struggled to tell her dad about this. No matter how much Felicity had encouraged her daughter to tell Oliver, she hadn’t been able to do so. She had had to overcome her fear of rejection first. While Millie had probably known that her father wouldn’t rip her head off for falling in love with a girl, she hadn’t been convinced that he would accept her and love her the same either.

Felicity didn’t know why that was the case. She and Oliver had told their kids about Sara, who had been bisexual. Still, she had been their friend, and Oliver had been in a relationship with her. Curtis Holt, who worked for her at Queen Incorporated and helped out in the Arrow Cave every once in a while, was gay. Even outside their friends, Oliver and Felicity had always openly supported the LGBTQ+ community. They had never wanted their kids, a friend or anyone else to feel unsafe around them.

“Oh, come here.”

Oliver put a hand to the back of Millie’s hand and pulled her into his arms. Despite the sweat that still stuck to his skin and his shirt, Millie went willingly. She wrapped her arms around his middle and snuggled into her father’s embrace. He held her, rubbing her back, while she was crying.

“There is no reason to cry,” Oliver whispered and kissed her temple. “Everything is fine.”

“I’m so sorry, Dad.”

“You don’t have anything to feel sorry for.”

“But-“

“Hey.”

Put his hands to Millie’s cheeks, he pulled out of the hug, so he could look at her. He wiped away some tears from her cheeks and just looked at her. Felicity knew the expression in his eyes, the calm and reassuring expression that had comforted her in the last thirty years too.

“Is Matty a good girl?” Oliver asked her. “Does she make you happy?”

Millie nodded. “Yes. Yes, absolutely. She understands me. She encourages me and motivates me. She comforts me. She- She’s just perfect. I have never been happier.”

“That is all I need to know,” Oliver told her, “because that is all I ever wanted for you.”

Oliver pulled Millie back into his arms and hugged her again. He rested his head on the top of her, looking at Felicity. She smiled at him, wordlessly thanking him for his reaction. She had known that he would be perfect. She had had nothing but faith in him because she knew how much he loved the kids and that nothing would ever change that, especially no sexual orientation.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“There is nothing to thank me for,” he replied with whispered voice. “I am your father, and I love you. There is nothing that could make me love you less, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Besides, don’t tell your sisters, but you have always been my favorite daughter.”

“Dad?”

“Hm?”

“You know that Emmy, Addie and I talk every now and then, and we know that you say that to each of us, right?”

“Pssst,” Oliver hushed her with a smile and kissed her head. “I only mean it when I say it to you.”

“Yes, that’s what you always tell the others too.”

Millie, Oliver and Felicity all chuckled. It took away from the tension of the moment, at least a little. Oliver just continued holding their daughter, and Felicity could almost see in his eyes that he was thinking back to all the moments Millie had been snuggled up into his arms like that when she had still been a kid.

When Millie’s phone buzzed, she pulled out of Oliver’s arms. Taking in a sniffling breath, she quickly wiped some tears away. She grabbed her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and took a look at the display.

“It’s Matty.”

Oliver nodded towards the house. “Take the call and talk to her.”

Millie smiled. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Oliver replied, “and tell her we are excited to meet her. She is always welcomed here.”

“I will.”

Oscar looked back and forth between Oliver and Millie for a moment. When she opened the door to the house, he quickly ran after her to follow her inside though.

As soon as the door closed behind the two of them, Felicity stepped in front of Oliver. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his chest. Oliver puckered his lips, wrapping his arms around Felicity’s shoulders. He angled his head forward and kissed the tip of her nose.

“How long have you known already?” Oliver asked. “Officially I mean.”

Felicity shrugged her shoulders. “Since Christmas.”

He perked up his eyebrows. “Since Christmas?”

“We were sitting in the kitchen at Christmas Eve when everyone else was already in bed,” Felicity remembered. “We were drinking some hot chocolate, and she told me that she thinks she fell in love with a girl she met at a friend’s party.”

Oliver nodded slowly and frowned. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“I don’t know.” Felicity shrugged her shoulders once more. “I don’t think she knew it either. She just needed more time. It’s not because she didn’t love you or didn’t trust you though. It was probably just new for her too, so she didn’t want to tell too many people before she was sure what it was.”

“I am glad she told you.” Oliver sighed and leaned his forehead against Felicity’s. “And I am glad she told me now.”

“So am I.”

Felicity straightened up onto the tips of her toes and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. She sighed into it and pressed herself even more tightly against Oliver. When their lips parted eventually, he scrunched up his nose.

“I guess I should take a shower.”

“You know that I love my husband all sweaty, but the kids don’t really see it the same way.” Felicity nodded. “A shower would be better, yes.”

Oliver puckered his lips. “Are you going to join me?”

“I don’t think Millie would like it,” Felicity said. “For some reasons our kids are disgusted by the thought that their parents still have sex.”

“What did we do wrong with them?”

“I have no idea.”

Chuckling, Oliver pecked Felicity’s lips once more. Hand in hand, they strolled back into the house. Without any secret between them, it was safe to say that their weekend with the kids promised to be a good one. Felicity couldn’t wait to have everyone around again like in old days. She missed having all her kids gathered here. She had always loved their house most when the entire family was there. It was how it was supposed to be.

My first one-shot since Christmas - wow! XD

This is set in the Time for a story-verse and part of the Adventures of parenting teenagers-series, a little glance into the future.

I hope to write more of these future chapters with the kids being teenagers or even all grown up eventually, especially once I might have to end Time for a story. We might learn more about whether Millie is gay or be and how things between her and Matty develop. We might also see what’s going on with Addie.

@just-arrowolicity @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @muslimsmoak @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @arrowsalways @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @hiddenchamb3r @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarry @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @paarti12 @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @cutearrowgirl @mrt2501 @mecha1330 @arsipaci14 @mzminx @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafra @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything @oliverfel4 @navyaarsha @fandoms-breathe-life @simone4mcswarek @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld @tjmartinez @pleasantfanandstudent @itsmagnoliagirl @j69confessional2 @scentedcolorpirate @icanica74 @javinancupil @tjmartinez98 @certainmentalityface @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin @missafairy @letsplaymurde-r @lipizette @positivepiper @nuttymilkshakehologram @laksagirl @turnupthemusicandscream @pumpernickle93 @onceuponanolicity @1106angel @jaspertown @fadinglands @morganashimi83 @mochababychristy @omglovechrissie @mariejr88-blog @thetaufactor @onceuponanolicity @speakandseethetruth @bri206 @aglasgo @thats0klaroline @geemarie @pineprincess @nerdgirljen @peterpanslostgirl666 @eternal-olicity14 @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay @lovelycssefan @tsseract @flowerandsunshine @dcnmarvelgamergeek @blondeeoneexox @monetsmark @soaring-cities @bb-olicity @mashamarty @rulerofsilence @erika-amber @felicity087 @i-claim-only-emily @pattid1 @westallenandolicityshipper @babyolicityandwestallen @nothingmorethanmyotps @kayleenyc @tonto16 @olicityfluv @olicitea1990 @olicity5ever @haahaaa2408

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#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #A parent's love

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chickenscratchingdotcom · 5 years ago

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The bad, the ugly, and maybe a little good...

This is going to be a long one, so I’m going to put it behind a cut. Suffice to say, I’ve decided to just ramble on here for a bit. This started out as my writing blog, but for obvious reasons, it hasn’t been lately.

The reasons being that I haven’t written anything in almost a year. I tried writing smutty short stories just to see how much crap I could produce quickly, and see if I could actually earn a little money from it. And I burned myself out. Badly. The last few months, I’ve been trying to get back into the swing of things. And I just realized that. NaNoWriMo is coming up. I just managed to frantically finish the album I’m working on for my cyberpunk music blog, now I’m just assembling it and uploading it to BandCamp. I was hoping to get it done a few weeks ago, so I would have time to seriously think about (and plot) for NaNoWriMo.

It’s the 28th. I don’t see any planning getting done in the next few days. That might change. I don’t know. There’s been some upheaval in my personal life, and I’m finding myself slipping into a mild depression. Most of the depression I deal with is relatively mild, but also pretty paralyzing. The only reason I’m able to type all this out right now is because it’s words. With a keyboard. I learned how to type properly in 3rd grade, and it’s one of the few ways that I can really just let words flow now as an adult. I had a speech impediment as a child, and while I eventually got through it with speech therapy, the moment I try to speak anything long and complex, I tend to get tongue-tied, or slur or mumble my words. Writing was always my way out.

The last two years haven’t been great for me. I finally found a desk job two and a half years ago, but it’s on a school campus, so I’m only earning money when school is in session. I took the job mainly because my knees have gotten so bad that I couldn’t work retail anymore. I literally couldn’t handle being on my feet for even a four hour shift. Which was the longest shift I was getting towards the end of my tenure there, because you can’t be giving decent hours to retail workers. They might end up having job security and a steady paycheck. So yeah... the last few years I’ve been a house-husband who can’t be on his feet long enough to actually keep the house up. And I get long stretches of time where I have to stay in money conservation mode just to survive until I get back to work. Not great.

Okay, here’s where wet get to the ugly. So I’m going to put a break here. I’ll try to avoid any specific triggers, but the next part deals with a bit of bullying, loss, and social circle problems. The sort of things you think get left behind after high school, but in the end, adults are just high schoolers with more experience.

Recently I came face to face with the fact that, even though I was always the rock who stood up to bullying among my friends in high school, now as an adult, I don’t really have the capacity to deal with more subtle forms of bullying and abuse. And someone in my life has been an abusive, gaslighting bully towards me, and to a lesser extent my wife, for a very long time. Because this person was integral in my group of friends, I would have to just... bite my tongue and put up with it. Every time. But in the last year, this person got braver. This person just got used to being allowed to get away with it. It was getting worse. It was getting to the point where I was starting to have nervous breakdowns just thinking about being in the same room as this person.

But as usual, I just bit my tongue and dealt with it. Until things finally went too far. I finally asked for help. The one person in our group of friends who actually has enough influence to force this person to behave tried to help. For several weeks, I watched as this person whined and complained and fought back against any attempt to force them to treat other people with even the barest amount of basic human decency. Not even respect, or kindness. I was about ready to ask this friend to stop, because I could see how much the policing and dealing with the bully was wearing them down. And then, after several weeks, everything just... went back to how it was. The moment the policing let up, the bullying came back with a vengeance. The abuse came back, without missing a beat. And when the bully was called out, they immediately went into gaslighting damage control mode, trying to convince people that my abuse was my own fault.

That was the final straw. I’d already reached the point where I couldn’t deal with the bullying, the abuse, or the gaslighting anymore. And when it finally all hit at once, this person capped it off by proving that while there were other people who could make them stop, there was literally nothing that I could say or do, short of resorting to the same sort of abuse, to make this person just... stop.... hurting me. I just found myself saying the same thing, over and over again, and being shrieked at, so I had to say it louder to be heard. Then louder. And finally I reached a point where I realized that if I said it any louder, I would not be speaking. I would be yelling. There was nothing that I could do or say to make this person stop bullying, stop abusing, stop gaslighting... short of using abuse to do so.

And I refused. I may not have the best enunciation when under stress, in fact due to the old speech impediment, I actually do have on occasional stutter on top of everything else, a stutter that gets immensely worse when I’m flustered or upset. But I have a powerful voice. I am a cis male, and a bass at that. I grew up in a home where anger was used as a weapon far too often, and I refuse to do that to anyone else. Even an abusive, gaslighting bully. I refused to bellow this person down. I refuse to use anger, fear, or intimidation. I refuse.

So the only thing to do was to cut this person, and the bullying, abuse, and gaslighting that they had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt would never be separate from them, out of my life. Unfortunately, that meant that my social life, and subsequently my wife’s social life, was pretty much... destroyed. This person had pushed themself into just about every aspect of our social circle. And now, I couldn’t be in the same place. Which meant that most of the time, I couldn’t be with the same people. Even so, with the way that this person forces themself into things and ignores any wants/needs/desires of those around them if they don’t mesh with what they want, I’ve been having panic attacks about what would happen if this person decided to show up at a place they knew we would be. I know that my wife is innately terrified of yelling men, so if I do have a breakdown, I tend to try to find a private place so she doesn’t have to deal with it. But there have been days when she’s come home from work and asked why my voice sounded hoarse, and I’ve told her why.

On top of that, over the last few months my wife has basically been in mourning, because she rarely gets to see her best friend anymore. And a few weeks ago, we found out that my wife’s best friend just got a new job. Her dream job, one that we had been hoping that she would get, no matter how much it might suck for us to lose her. Because that job is several hours away.

We’ve been so out of touch with everything going on because of the recent social group upheaval, that we didn’t even know that another friend was moving in with her. On Saturday, we found out at the last minute that a going-away party was being thrown for her. My wife panicked. This might be her last chance to see her best friend. And, of course, my abuser was going to be there. So I couldn’t go. I was already on the verge of a panic attack just thinking about being in the same space as my abuser. She was having a breakdown because she feels like she’s been losing her best friend in slow motion over the last month, and there’s no way that her going alone without me wouldn’t cause my abuser to poke and prod and force my wife to talk about things she wouldn’t want to talk about.

I knew that either way, whether my wife went or not, we’d have to cancel the other plans we had on Saturday. She didn’t go. I spent most of the night comforting my crying wife.

The next day, I got a rather long text message from one of the people from our usual Saturday night event. It was a long, rambling (yes, even by my standards) screed asking if we really wanted to be there, since we’ve missed a few times and only told them at the last minute. I told him, as best I could, that what happened was last minute and we had no say in it. I don’t know if it was understood. I haven’t gotten a response.

And that’s when I felt it starting to hit yesterday afternoon. I don’t often deal with depression. But it was coming on. I managed to stave it off as best I could last night and took care of things around the house as best I could. There’s a pile of dishes in the sink that say I didn’t quite manage it, but c’est la guerre.

I’ve still got a lot of collating to do to get my album out. And I do want to do NaNo. But right now, I just don’t know what, or how much I can do.

But, at least I’ll end with a bit of good. I finally saw a doctor for the first time in ten years. I’ll have to wait a little bit for our HSA card to fill back up before we can afford to get me an appointment with the two specialists she recommended, but I might finally have a lead on what’s wrong with my knees. And maybe there will be ways to actually DEAL with the problem. I’ve been trying to lose some weight over the last year or so to hopefully help take stress off of my knees, (and because I have a family history of diabetes, so cutting out sugars and carbohydrates while losing weight is just generally a good preventative idea for me) and that’s actually been relatively successful.

I can’t exercise, of course, because... knees. I can’t afford more expensive, healthier food. But I can put my foot down and limit my calories. Find things that work for me. It’s not easy, because I’ve always eaten on the healthy end of cheap. I just had a huge appetite, thanks to that lovely childhood fast metabolism, and being part of a large and relatively not-financially-well off family growing up. We always had food on the table, but it wasn’t always quite enough. So I learned to wolf down what I could when I could when I was young.

So after learning what fills me up and makes me want less food, and what food is cheap, filling, and easily taken to work with me for lunch, and cutting out a shitload of unhealthy habits that I’ve picked up in the last few years, I finally had a system. My appetite was evening out. My calorie count was usually below 2000 every day. I didn’t want a crash diet, with my history of health problems that would just be asking for trouble. And a rebound. I wanted long-term healthy habits, and long-term healthy slow weight loss. And it wasn’t easy. For the first few months, I was hungry. A lot. A lot of the high-fiber or non-animal protein that was involved in the diet caused some (e.g., uncomfortably large amounts of) gas. Although I also discovered lactose-free milk and at least one brand of lactose-free cheese around that time, so my digestive problems were actually LESS difficult than they had been before. Go figure. (Also, I recently got around to seeing if Beano helped... and it totally did.)

Last summer, I went down two notches on my belt. Over the next semester, I went down two more. Since I ran out of notches on my belt, the next semester it just got slightly looser over time. Finally, a week or so before my doctor’s appointment, my wife and were out running errands when we noticed a scale next to the grocery store pharmacy. I stepped on it and I was amazed. I really had no clue just how much I’d been losing over the last year. I still don’t know exactly how much, since every scale I had access to only went up to 300 lbs. If I had to guess my weight at its highest, I would say that 320 is probably a low-end estimate. More likely in the 330-340 range. My wife is relatively small, and I was getting close to three times her mass. When I weighed myself... I was 267 lbs. Barely more than twice her mass. And by the time I had my doctor’s appointment a week later, I was down by another pound.

Needless to say, I decided to celebrate both the weight loss and the fact that I’ve had a steady paycheck for a month or so by going out and buying a new, smaller belt.

So here I am. Paralyzed by November coming. Dealing with oncoming depression, with no clue how bad it’s going to be or how long it’s going to stay. Trying to help my wife through a difficult time. Not sure if my social life is going to survive the next month. And worrying about what will happen when winter break comes around, and I don’t have income, right when my wife and I will need new tires for our cars. But I’m still standing... for a few hours at a time. And I’m still doing dishes and sweeping the floor when I can. And I have discovered one thing I enjoy doing on my feet that doesn’t irritate my knees... something I might be able to do in my garage. So I might be selling things on etsy or something like that to make a little extra money on the side.

#nanowrimo #depression #dealing with it #writing blog #writing #adult bullying #bullying #gaslighting #mental health #physical health #just generally trying to deal with my health as best I can

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lady-nevermore · 8 years ago

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Third Session

June 5, 2017

Yesterday I:

5AM - Went to Church with my mom (been finding it really relaxing and peaceful actually).

8 AM - Accompanied and Went with my folks on running their errands.

12/ Noon - Went to the Flea Market (haven’t been in lke forever, saw a bunch of cool stuff like always) and at the behest of my parents, whom also decided to give this a go, got a message......I actually feel like it loosened me up a bit....feel a lot more: sensitive/tender around my shoulder area/neck...at least i don’t feel those damn kinks anymore....but idunno if i like feeling this tender/sensitive/vulnerable around there. >_>;

1-5 PM - Went the Grocery Store and spent the last remaining hours looking for that dratted, evasive gift-bag (more details below in a sec). >_<;

6-7 PM Ate Dinner, and Took a shower.

8-9 PM - Went to bed, and actually slept well.

Today I:

- 6:45 AM: Went with my mom, for the third/fourth time this week, walking around our local Half Library/Half Duck Pond (powered-walked for an hour and saw a bunch of the local wildlife: Squirrels, ducks, geese, robin-birds, crows, etc). It’s always very nice and soothing to see, not to mention it makes me smile. :)

- 7:00-11:00 AM: Did some housework, laundry, made and prepared dinner for tonight as well as for the following days, and tried to fix my TV (sorta worked....still pending....we’ll see).

12/Noon Ate Lunch (made myself a small Tuna Salad with cucumbers, and spinach, with a side of baby carrots, a couple of pieces of store-bought Sushi, and a granola bar); it was really nice actually. :)

1-4 PM Tried to take my mind off my nerves/anxiety a bit, managed to listen to music, and read a bit before mentally preparing myself for My Therapy appointment at 5 PM.

6-7 PM: Ate a healthy dinner and afterwards have been writing this therapy blog up till now......Looking at the clock: it’s 9PM *sigh* -___-;

9 PM - Gonna get off tumblr, take a shower and head to bed (whilst reading a fanfic); G’night y’all *yawn*

So yeah, Today and Yesterday have been semi-stressful (a little bit hectic) to say the least; Y’all remember my ‘Aunt C aka The Poor Excuse of an Aunt who emotionally traumatized/abused me when I was 5, well her daughter let’s call her “Jay” has a Graduation this upcoming Friday....Ironically enough, Jay is graduating from my old alma-mater/my old high school: AHS High.....I’m not that close to Jay for obvious reasons (I’ve sorta sub consciously stayed away/distanced myself away from them in order to avoid Aunt C.....but then again I rarely like to spend time with or at family reunions, nowadays anyways). >_>;

But that’s beside the point; I’m proud of my younger cousin, proud and happy for her: she’s an AP student, got a full scholarship to UC Davis (aka the College I’ve always dreamed of going as well as the same old alma-mater of my Old Mentor/Friend who passed away but meant a great great deal to me to the point where he left his mark/imparted his memory onto me), and who is so amazingly ambitious that my dear cousin jay dreams of becoming a Doctor. This is why I’m soo damn proud of her (tho a selfishly part of me does feel a twinge of jealousy/envy....but my happiness/pride of her is far greater), She’s probably going to be one of the few in our family who might actually achieve graduating from a legit University, and effing applaud her for that. I mean I know that we may not be close (nor do I know If I would ever want to be, considering her connection to my abuser aka my Aunt C/her mother)....But despite that, it is in my nature to try to look past that and kindly offer a gesture of happiness in congratulating her, cause I am honestly quite proud of her. :)

....Which is why I decided to impart to her what my old mentor/friend imparted onto me when I graduated from AHS High: A nice couple of (and by couple I mean 2) boxes of Tea, specifically Vanilla Chai Tea and Earl Grey ; My Mentor, let’s call him Obi-Wan (cause he was a huge die-hard fan of Star Wars), well Obi-Wan always said that Tea helped him to relax, and I wholly agree with him in this statement, it’s been around 9 years since he introduced me to the Wonders and Joy that is Tea (and 8 years since he passed away from Colon Cancer), but it’s something that I feel will always connect me to him, and in turn is my own personal means of honoring his memory.

So, I hope that my little gift/gesture to Jay (isn’t too cheap/offensive in her eyes or my Aunt C’s in that matter) and that it will help her to relax throughout her fun, but what I’m sure will be quite the stressful venture that is College/University (I dropped out, something I’m ashamed of, so I can’t talk or say much on the matter, but I do hope it’ll help Jay in the long run). I say this in all seriousness, because I ended up having a nervous-breakdown by taking waaaaay too many college-courses/classes (around 5-6 tops) what with my mentor/friend passing away, plus me struggling depression, pushing my friends outta of my life/cutting them off, as well as struggling with said classes and me being sleep-deprived on top of that didn’t help....it was just too damn much and now here I am now (struggling with anxiety and going to therapy....though my issues have been long since precedent and something that I’ve been dealing far longer) but the point is Jay is a High ranking AP student and off to a legit High Ranking University......that can’t be easy on her poor shoulders the bear, which is why I worry and hope she doesn’t repeat my mistakes........hence a few kind, meaningful, soothing words of wisdom on the graduation card I got for her, as well as the heartwarming gesture of Tea. But yeah, I hope it at the very least make her smile (and think oh, how appropriate, Tea: a nerdy gift from my dorky cousin Lady Nevermore). lol x)

So I told my Therapist that I woke up today feeling melancholic for no apparent reason (or so I thought); But my therapist thinks that I might me projecting my stress/anxiety from Yesterday (when I was trying to find/prepare the perfect gift for me to give Jay for her Graduation) onto today; She’s not wrong ....I was sorta freaking out, yesterday, that we were never going to find the perfect gift-bag for the occasion (not to mention that my indecisiveness/pickiness didn't help)...most of the gift-bags were either too tacky or not appropriate (birthday gift bags for example)....but in the end I got lucky and found the perfect one, yay! :D

So yeah, I talked to my therapist about my anxiety/fear that Jay ro my Aunt C will find my gift cheap/offensive and or worse, she’ll want to start to get close to me (and considering her connection to my abuser, having my Aunt Cas her mother)......yeah that’s not something I’m at all entirely comfortable with, like at all. :/

We talked a little bit about my Mentor/Old Friend, Obi-Wan and how his passing/death affected me aka via anxiety-terror filled nightmares, etc (but I don’t really wanna get into that atm, maybe later or some other time). We discussed how my therapist is glad that I’m continuing to go outside (going to church, walking around the library-duck pond area, and going to stores or to the grocery store with my folks; it’s been three weeks more or less of this now without me feeling too overwhelmed)

2nd Piece of Homework: Note to Self: Notice and become Aware of what triggers my depression or anxiety during stressful/anxiety-filled situation and write it down (this way we can start identifying what triggers my anxiety/depression and what me and my therapist can start to work on).

****Pretty sure I forgot a lot of other stuff, and I will probably try to add more to this later or post another one of these the following weeks, but for now this’ll have to do.

Just got back from therapy (around 6 pm-ish and it took me a while to eat dinner, not to mention get on tumblr and organize my thoughts in order to write this blog) and I’m Feeling sorta tired/drained/low-key sorta cranky and i really really really just wanna go shower and go to bed right now (and recharge); sucks cause I really wanted to start pick up where the anime in Bleach left off, and start reading the manga (Bleach) and / or watch one of the bleach movies....or another Ghibli film.....or hell, at the very least cruise on tumblr (reblogging, chatting, etc) for a bit. *sigh* Ah well, maybe tomorrow. -____-;

Welp, Later, and Good Night my dears! *hugs* :)

- Lady Nevermore

#therapy blog #therapy #Third Session #anxiety #melancholy #meh #personal

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my-mystic-messenger · 8 years ago

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since the topic of therapy came up, who do you think out of the big 5 RFA members really needs to go the most? V, Rika and Saeran are the obvious ones, so the deep story boys are probably my top candidates for really needing some mental health help (though really, they all do) and i always got the impression there's a lot more going on than we see. especially with jumin. i love him, but i think he's hiding some deep-seated issues. his impulsivity and step-mom's creepy behavior worry me.

This is honestly a really interesting question so I think I’ll attempt on ranking the main 5 from who needs it the most to who needs it the least (in my opinion, not that anyone comes attacking me for it later on)

1) Saeyoung

I feel like Saeyoung is quite the obvious choice but honestly I can’t stretch this enough. The fandom glorifies him so horridly, putting him on that strange pedestal of meme’s and space station weddings that they seem to completely ignore his horrid depression.

I cannot count on one hand how many times he openly talked about the wish to die like?! Is no one alarmed? Much like Saeran he grew up being told he was a mistake, that their father hated both of them, that they were nothing but a pressure tool to their mother as well as the fact that out of them both the mother hated him more and constantly tortured him and send him on errands like a slave.

If that isn’t enough for therapy let’s add the fact that he basically had to sell his soul to an immoral agency at the age of like fifteen or something? All of his bad experiences also lead him to develop a sadistic streak which I don’t feel comes natural to him but is rather the outcome of constant abuse from his very own mother.

I feel like people just love to forget that those shitty memes and jokes he always pulls aren’t all that funny but merely an act of sadism and a cry of help. This boy needs therapy, not a girlfriend.

2) Zen

I was torn whether to put Jumin above Zen or Zen above Jumin. To me they are pretty much tied but I decided to rank Zen higher, because I’ve went through very similar experiences and feel that to a certain extend his fucked-up-ness is a little worse.

Not that you can compare pain, but you know what I mean. For one he was constantly called ugly by his entire family. Let me tell you, that destroys your body image for life. It obviously did for Zen, because if anyone buys into his narcissism for one hot second they are blind to the bigger picture.

Trying to work against one extreme with another is something most people attempt in such situations. Everyone calls him ugly and ridicules him? He tells himself he’s the most beautiful person in the entire world to make up for it. It’s heartbreaking, really, when you realize he doesn’t believe it one bit. That he is constantly looking for validation because of his doubts.

It’s also most likely the reason he pursued acting and modeling. On top of that he was shunned by his parents for not doing what they told him to do, got kicked out by the age of fifteen, had to provide for himself at an incredibly young and vulnerable age and spent the most important and influential years of his life (15-18) in a highly probably dangerous biker gang.

More on my thoughts on that you can read here. As it is, I feel like all of these things would leave him extremely insecure and vulnerable and broken to the point where therapy is really the only solution.

3) Jumin

Jumin is my baby. Out of all the characters that are playable he is my absolute favourite and I’ve played all of his stuff religiously. Now me and my friends were just discussing his past yesterday and there was an obvious indicator that his step-mother, the one he called mother, tried to seduce him at a very young age.

There aren’t any specifics but we deduced from the info and wording and general time line that he was either in his late teens (probably around 16) or in his early twenties. Whatever the case such an experience must have been horrible.

For one, he never had a mother, whatever happened to her is still a mystery, before watching his father fuck his way through all the women he encountered only to end up broken-hearted. We know that Jumin loves his father and seeing that must have been hard.

Growing up without a proper woman in his life even harder, but to then end up with a step mother that was probably closer to his age than his father and then attempted to seduce and sexually harass him…I cannot imagine the impact that must have made on him.

He’s completely shut off for a reason, right? Who is to say it was the first time it happened? Not to mention that he was aware, even as a child, that people were only ever nice to him because of his money. He never in his entire life felt genuinely loved. That boy needs therapy.

I mean he openly discusses the threads in his head and how he only ever loved Elizabeth, because he knew she’d never leave him. After being left by all these women supposed to be his mother figures he has severe trust - and abandonment issues.

Not to mention that even his ‘best friend’ V called him peculiar and strange, manipulated him later on and allowed his beloved Rika to dig his claws into her. Jumin was fucked from all sides and even when he tries to help - take Zen’s route for example - he is constantly portrayed like the last asshole.

Especially by Jaehee which I honestly find slightly ridiculous, because fine, catsitting isn’t her job, but she doesn’t really speak up and frankly he does pay her amazingly well. She is supposed to do her job so I don’t understand why she has the audacity to whine and bitch at and about her boss in a chatroom like that. In the real world no one would dare to do that. You suck it up and continue working because capitalism is a thing. She’s lucky to have such a well-payed and in comparison to others easy job.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say, he constantly gets fucked over and insulted by everyone he trusts and loves. His father put two bitches he didn’t even know above Jumin’s needs. The very last person he could trust. Poor soul, give him therapy.

4) Jaehee

I feel like what she went through was definitely traumatic it happened later than what happened to Zen, Jumin and Saeyoung so it generally doesn’t have as big as an impact. I mean it’s horribly, don’t get me wrong, but something you have to endure since childhood generally leaves you more scarred than what happens in your teens.

Which isn’t to say that Jaehee doesn’t need therapy asap. She lost both her parents, her family obviously didn’t want to take care of her, she got kicked out during a hard time as well (getting into college) and had to fend for herself for years. Then she got into a mentally and physically draining job, because money was essential to survive.

Dreams were nice but they don’t pay the rent and she had to learn that particular lesson a little earlier than the average person. I feel like her extreme perfectionism is also a result of that. Like her family hated her so she desperately tried to be perfect so she wouldn’t be a burden to them, in hopes of them accepting her.

That way of thinking is extremely damaging though and I feel that therapy would be really beneficial to her. However, I also feel that while she would benefit from it, she doesn’t necessarily need it as much as the others. She’s a tough cookie. I feel like she might be able to work through it by herself if given the safe space and time to do so.

5) Yoosung

Honestly, compared to the others, this boy is fine. He suffers from major laziness and self-caused insecurity but if those are his biggest issues in life, I’m glad. Frankly, the only thing this boy really needs to sort out it his obsessive/addictive personality. Whatever he does he does it to a certain extreme to the point where it’s not even bordering unhealthy but past the mark. Rika? Completely obsessed with her. She dies. He falls into a pit of sorrow that is no longer to be considered normal.From what I gathered they didn’t become close until about two years before her death. You don’t get that attached in two years or at least you shouldn’t and even if you do, with the help of friends and family you generally work through it. Instead he replaced one obsession with another, namely LOLOL. Once more he drowns himself in it to the point where it’s unhealthy.Then you step into his life and bingo the whole thing starts up again to the point he risks his goddamn life for you, because he is so goddamn obsessed. I respect everyones opinion when they say he ‘grew’ as a person, but honestly I just see it as him finding a slightly healthier obsession and replacing his old ones. The only reason he powered through his studies was because of you. The amount of time he must have put into it I don’t even want to imagine. Probably too much, just like with LOLOL. So yeah, he needs therapy for that but not as urgently as the rest, because emotionally he’s actually pretty fine. It’s just that obsessive/addictive part of him that needs healing, the rest will come naturally.Damn, I went a little overboard here, but I hope I answered your ask to you liking XD

#707 #seven #jumin han #zen #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #analysis

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balarsen22 · 8 years ago

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Therapy 5/17

Went in for a half hour session today. I had thought a lot about what she told me yesterday, that its all because I don't think I’m worth it as a person just as I am. I told her how mind blown I was by it, that I spent a lot of time processing it last night. I had planned on reading her the journal entry I made, but I got really scared. I avoided telling her, and brought up how I hate myself for bing this way. She said that if I keep thinking like that, it will never go away. She brought up that its the same as hating myself for cancer, and that its not any different than anxiety or depression. I said that those things are actual things that are physically wrong with people. This is something thats wrong with who I am as a person. She argued that I am doing neurofeedback to treat it, she’d say thats pretty solid evidence that there’s something wrong. I said that the neurofeedback is treating the anxiety and depression, not the factitious. She said that they’re all interrelated. I was quiet, and was internally debating bringing up the journal or not. Eventually she got me to speak, and I just blurted out that I had journaled about it but I’m chickening out about reading it. She told me to read it, to not waste her time. I hesitated, but did it.

“Yeah, factitious is an illness. But it isn’t some random chemical imbalance in my brain, it's something wrong with me, as a person. Like deep down to my core. And I feel like its my fault that I’m this way. If I wasn't so sensitive or if I could just communicate or if I didn't take things so much to heart it would be different. I feel like I’m a fraud. I don’t even know who the fuck I actually am. I hate the person i’ve become. I hate myself for the pain I've caused other people, and I hate myself for not being able to control it. I hate myself for all of the lies. I hate myself for being an attention seeking little bitch. Im the type of person I was always told not to be.

I’m not sure why I can’t seem to believe I’m worth something on my own as a person. It's just this feeling I have in my core that I'm not enough. It seems like normally when people want to be around a person or compliment them, they accept it. They don’t question why someone could see good in them. I don’t remember a time I was able to accept a compliment. I've just never felt like I've been enough as I am, I could always do more or do it better. And I've never really fit in with other people. I would watch others on the playground a lot during recess in elementary school. I wanted to be like them, to fit in without having to overthink every action I made. I wanted to feel like I finally belonged. I’ve always felt like an outsider. Everyone else seemed great at making friends and enjoyed being a child, but I didn’t enjoy the things they did. They seem to just understand it, how to act around other people, what to say, how to be themselves and not do embarrassing things. I always worried about things, I was always afraid I was going to say or do the wrong thing. I never understood why all of the other kids were so happy and carefree. I was so focused on school and my future. I was worried about getting into colleges and scholarships in middle school. I would beat myself up for the smallest mistakes. I had a few close friends who would drop me after awhile, or we’d just grow apart. Erica and I were best friends up until 4th grade, and then she decided that 6th graders couldn’t be seen talking to 4th graders and dropped me like I was nothing. And even with Brian, who I’ve been friends with since we were 4, we would go through periods of times that we just wouldn’t talk, for months. I’ve always had friends, but I’ve always felt like I’m just sort of… there. like all of my friends would go out and do things and get into relationships and like people who like them back and have fun and go on stupid adventures with their best friends and borrow each others clothes, and instead of doing that I’ve always just been some mildly entertaining thing that people take an interest in once in awhile but I’m never anyone’s first choice, and I never have been. I had friends, but I wasn’t invited places. I wasn’t involved in the inside jokes. Nobody texted me, or wanted to hang out. I would hear about the adventures or see pictures from them, that I wasn’t invited to. Thats still how it is. Its very rare that I will get a text checking in on me, even from my friends at TK or Sarah from ERC. If I don’t text them first I don’t hear from them. I never felt like I really belonged, apart from in treatment i guess. Through elementary school I’d have the play dates and everything, but even then I didn’t act right I guess. I would get goofy with my friends, and my mom would always tell me to stop acting so weird. I either stayed home alone on friday and saturday nights or I babysat. I was always the odd man out. People hung out with me at school or at the barn because it was convenient, or because I had things to offer like having a pool or bunch of stuffed animals or a trampoline or anything like that. I was just being used. I was the nerd that liked to read, and the weird horse girl.

I didn’t like the things my family liked. I was the black sheep in the family. I was 4 when I told my mom I wanted to run away. My mom tells the story like its cute, and its kind of funny, but at the same time why would I want to run away from my family as a 4 year old? I was completely convinced I was adopted through like 3rd grade, even though I look almost exactly like Grandma Denor did when she was a kid and there’s all sorts of baby pictures. I just felt like an outsider in my family. I kept to myself and hid in my books. I read, a lot. I would throw myself into the fantasy world they created. My family always pokes fun at the fact that during a family road trip in 3rd grade we went to the sweet sixteen during march madness. We had awesome seats, and during the time we were there I read 3 books. I hated basketball, and the rest of my family lived and breathed it. And on the other side of it, my dad hated horses and wasn’t a big animal fan, and I lived for them. My mom was more into animals, but was scared of horses. Christian was allergic to them, I would get home from the barn and either have to go straight to the basement to change or change in the garage. And it was expensive, and I felt bad about spending my parents money. I worked a lot and paid for farrier and vet bills and everything, and whatever other expenses I could. I worried about it. All the time. It was the thing I loved the most and they supported it, but I felt guilty for loving it. And they didn’t understand it. I felt like I was the oddball in the family for loving it. I was just different. I knew they were happy with my grades though. I knew that they were happy if I received awards. Christian was the golden boy, and he was good at everything he did. I was always given the message not to cry. Even my parents, although probably well meaning, would say things to make me stop. I got the idea that I wasn’t allowed to be in pain. My mom tells the story of the random guy in church giving me a dollar for putting up with christian and his friends picking on me all through mass. She was surprised, because I didn’t say anything. But even if I did say something, I was told to just not react and they’d get bored and move on. Thats how I first learned to hide pain or tears. in church when you had to hold hands for the our father, if I was sitting by christian or carrie they would squeeze my hand and do the thing that rolls your knuckles, and it hurts. I learned to quit reacting to the pain. If I did cry I was teased and told not to be such a girly girl, or to suck it up, or to put on my big girl pants and get over it, or something like that. And then I’d be teased relentlessly about it later on. When I was younger I would get angry when I got picked on, christian called me a psycho midget. my anger towards him was reciprocated with anger towards me, and he was bigger and stronger. Yeah, I know he loves me, but I was afraid of him. There was one night when I was little that my parents almost called the cops because they couldn’t find me. I was hiding under my bed away from christian, and I had fallen asleep because I was under there so long. And when I was made fun of for something, I took it to heart. I was teased and embarrassed so much about having a boyfriend as a kid, it made it seem like a bad thing. Literally, it was something I actively avoided because I didn’t want to tell my family. And I was made fun of for my weight too. I was fat, and I knew it. And other people made sure I knew it. I was always hungry, my aunt and uncle would make fun of how much I ate. They still joke about the embarrassing stories. I had nicknames, from people at school and in the family. Even my friends would say things occasionally. When I was in 6th grade. I had gone shopping with my mom and Theresa and Tara, and Tara and I had both gotten the woven ponchos that were in style at that point. I had to promise my mom I’d wear it a lot, because it was like $40 bucks or something. The first time I wrote it to school, Brendan Taylor said I looked like a blimp. I never wore it again. Tara called me buttsy, the rest of the extended family called me boat anchor. Fuck, the Nelsons still call me boat anchor. Some people at school used to call me bessie the cow. The people I hung out with would constantly make fun of fat people. Brian got really mad at me once, and called me a fat-ass. Even when I tried dressing nice or wearing makeup or doing my hair for school, people commented. Freshman year of high school I tried it. I wore makeup to school for about the first 4 days, i straightened my hair, I wore the tighter hollister or american eagle shirts. And people made such a big deal about it that I stopped. People at the barn, my friends at schoo, my familyl. I went back to my sweatshirts and t-shirts, I stopped wearing makeup, I went back to my ponytail. I would get tired faster than other people. I was just always tired, even though up until high school I slept a lot. Maybe too much even. I guess I always thought it was because I was bigger and out of shape, I couldn’t keep up with the people I hung out with. I always was friends with a lot of skinny people. When I started working at the barn in 7th grade I would spend the morning there cleaning stalls and riding, and then I would get home and crash for like 3 hours. And then it switched at one point in high school to when I didn’t really sleep at all. I was raised to be humble, to not get a big head, and to keep your head down and work hard for everything you want. To help people as much as you can, to put others needs in front of my own. And I probably took it the wrong way, but I took it to mean that other people were worth more than me and I had to earn everything I got. I was too sensitive about things, I let certain things get stuck in my head and I would overthink and overanalyze it too much. I would find the hidden message. I’ve always taken things way too sensitively. When people make fun of me I internalize it and it replays in my head. It only takes one time. It's so stupid. I still cringe about embarrassing or shameful moments I've had. It all sounds so superficial though. And maybe it has nothing to do with it. Maybe it's just all in my head, and there's just something fundamentally wrong with me.”

I teared up some when I was reading it, but I made it through. It was hard to read some of those things out loud. and skipped over a few parts. She asked me how felt. I was really embarrassed, but I couldn't identify that at the moment so I just said like shit, Everything that bothers me seems so small, and I’m being too sensitive. She said its actually a really common thing people see her for, that these things build up over time. She said its something that we can work on together. She also wanted me to take note that I said that the only place I’ve ever really felt I belonged was at treatment. Maybe that’s why I liked IOP so much, and groups. It helps to feel like you belong.

She said she was really happy that I read her that and wrote her that. She said that since I don't talk much, it really helps her get a window into my mind, and she learned a lot about me today, and that she was really glad I texted her and I took her up on the half hour appointment today. It was only a half hour appointment, so we ran out of time, but I'll be back there tomorrow for EMDR.

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